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MENTAL AND MORAL SCIENCE; 



DESIGNED TO EXHIBIT THE 



Original Susceptibilities of the Mind, 



RULE BY WHICH THE RECTITUDE OF ANY OF ITS STATES 
OR FEELINGS SHOULD BE JUDGED. 



BY GEORGE PAYNE, LL. D 



NEW-YORK: 



PUBLISHED BY LEAVITT, LORD, & CO. 

180 Broadway. 



1835. 



D. Fanshaw, Printer. 






\^ 



(Jrill 



REV. DAVID WELSH, 



THE PERSONAL FRIEND AND ENLIGHTENED BIOGRAPHER 



GF THE GREATLY LAMENTED 



DR. THOMAS BROWN 



THE REV. THOMAS CHALMERS, D. D. 

THE ELOQUENT ADVOCATE OF MEASURES 

DESIGNED TO EVINCE 

rUE HIGH REGARD WHICH IS CHERISHED FOR THE MEMORY OF 

DR. BROWN 5 

This Volume, 

WHICH EXHIBITS MANY OF THE LEADING DOCTRINES 

OF THAT DISTINGUISHED WRITER, 

IS INSCRIBED, 

WITH GREAT ESTEEM AND AFFECTION, 

BY 

THEIR OBEDIENT SERVANT, 



a PAYNE, 



PREFACE 



The subsequent pages owe their origin to the profes- 
sional engagements of the writer. Expected to impart 
instruction to the students committed to his care, in the 
philosophy of the human mind, as well as on subjects 
strictly theological, he devoted all the time he could 
command to the task of drawing up a course of lectures 
on the Elements of Mental and Moral Science, which 
should be made to combine, as far as he found it prac-" 
ticable, comprehension with brevity, and might be used 
as a text-book in his future prelections. 

His object in the preparation of his lectures was not 
originality, but usefulness. His sole desire was to guide 
the minds of his pupils to what he regarded as the right 
decision upon the multifarious topics of inquiry which 
his plan embraced ; and whether he attained that end 
by presenting to them the statements of others, or what 
might be more properly denominated his own, was to 
him a matter of no importance whatever. 

In the prosecution of this object, the quotations made 
from the works both of living and departed genius were 
of course numerous. In short, it appeared to him that 



t> PREFACE, 

to present to his young friends a statement of the senti- 
ments of our most approved writers in relation to the 
important subjects to which he directed their attention, 
combined with an effort to guide them to the truth 
amidst this conflict of opinions, would prove one of the 
best modes he could adopt for securing a competent ac- 
quaintance with those subjects ; nor when he afterwards 
proceeded to prepare his manuscript for the press, did he 
see reason to adopt a different course of proceeding. 

The preceding statement will account for the free use 
which he has made, in the following pages, of the writ- 
ings of those illustrious men to whom the friends of men- 
tal science are under such deep obligations. He ven- 
tures to state, however, that the present work is not a 
mere compilation. He has endeavored at least to think 
for himself; and though he has mainly adopted the 
views and the system of the late Dr. T. Brown, the at- 
tentive reader will perceive that he differs from that 
writer on several important points — whether justly so 
or not, must of course be left for the public to decide ; 
the difference will at any rate show that he does not sla- 
vishly follow any leader, nor consent to hold his mind 
in bondage to any man. 

Unless the reader should be familiarly acquainted 
with the writings of Locke, Reid, Stewart, Brown, 
Welsh, <fec. it is presumed that he will deem it a great 
advantage to be presented with an account of the views 
of these illustrious men ; he will thus be put in posses- 
sion of better and more ample means for forming an en- 



PREFACE. 7 

lightened judgment for himself, than if the sentiments 
of the writer had been singly exhibited. And even 
many who are tolerably conversant with the subjects on 
which this volume treats, may be glad to have their me- 
mories refreshed, and to be spared the labor of making 
references — a trouble which they must otherwise have 
undergone : while all who may honor this Work, by 
taking it as their guide in the commencement of their 
studies, will, it is hoped, be better prepared, in conse- 
quence of the plan which it adopts, for an extensive 
course of reading, to which it is designed to invite and 
allure them. 

The author wishes to add a few words in reference 
to the system which, as it has been already intimated, 
is mainly followed in the present work, viz. that of Dr. 
Thomas Brown, late Professor of Moral Philosophy in 
the University of Edinburgh; — a system which differs 
very considerably from the one which is still advocated 
with so much ability by his predecessor, Mr. Dugald 
Stewart. The sentiments of this latter gentleman are 
avowedly formed upon those of his preceptor, Dr. Reid ; 
yet he has presented the same radical principles in so 
much more elegant a dress — has adorned his pages 
with such varied and beautiful illustration — and main- 
tained so high a tone of moral eloquence, that his writ- 
ings, although it should be admitted that they have not 
perhaps very greatly enlarged the boundaries of Mental 
Science, have gained for their author a larger measure 
of public applause than has been bestowed upon those 
even of his more original predecessor. 



8 PREFACE. 

The works of these distinguished men formed an 
epoch in the history of Mental Science, second only in 
importance and splendor to that which had been intro- 
duced by the labors of our immortal Locke. Yet, with- 
out intending to detract from their great merits, the pre- 
sent writer ventures to predict that the time is not far 
distant, when the publication of Dr. Brown's Lectures 
will be regarded as constituting an era not less brilliant 
than any of the preceding ones. The public have not 
as yet been just to the great merits of the latter gentle- 
man. Many circumstances, which it is unnecessary to 
specify, have operated to prevent his attainment of that 
unrivalled distinction as a metaphysician, to which 
" his transcendent genius, blending together/' as it did, 
" all that is most graceful in fancy, with all that is most 
arduous and recondite in original speculation," most 
justly entitles him. There is one point only to which 
the author of these pages would refer. He was a 
poet, and therefore, as it has been too hastily infer- 
red, cannot have been a solid and judicious philoso- 
pher. Now, if it were admitted that a brilliant ima- 
gination is not, generally speaking, found in union 
with those powers which qualify an individual for 
abstract speculation and "patient thought," it might 
still be maintained that Dr. Brown was an exception. 
In his writings "the lighter graces of poetry are 
interspersed amongst the demonstrations of a pro- 
found and original metaphysics. Never was philoso- 
phy so abstruse, yet never was it seasoned so exqui- 
sitely, or spread over a page so rich in all those attic 
delicacies of the imagination and the style which could 



PREFACE. 



make the study of it attractive."* It ought also to be 
further observed, that the poetry, which is doubtless to 
be found in Dr. Brown's philosophical works, is not only 
exquisite in itself, but invariably subordinated to the rea- 
soning. His imagination is yoked to his argument, and 
it is only for the purpose of carrying it forwards with 
greater rapidity and power that he ever gives to the for- 
mer the reins. In short, that splendor of fancy which 
sometimes, it must be confessed, eclipses thought, serves, 
in Dr. Brown, as it always should do, to set it in the clear- 
ness of noon-day before the view of the reader. 

Were it as certain that the man who is not a poet 
must be a metaphysician, as that Dr. Brown possessed, in 
an eminent degree, the higher qualities of both, the wri- 
ter of the present work might venture, on that ground, 
to prefer some claim to the character of a mental philo- 
sopher. No one can be more fully aware than he is him- 
self, how impossible it is for him to shed over his work 
those graces of style which give to the pages of Dr. 
Brown so irresistible an attraction. He has not, accord- 
ingly, been guilty of the folly of attempting it. His sole 
effort has been to render the 'principles he advocates as 
intelligible as the abstract nature of the subjects would 
allow. He has aimed only at correctness and perspi- 
cuity—to think with accuracy and clearness himself, 
and to convey to his readers a distinct conception of his 
meaning. He ventures not to say, nor even to imagine, 
that he has been uniformly successful. In a volume 

* Vide Prospectus for a monument to the memory of Dr. Brown, by- 
one of the most eloquent writers of the present day. 

2 



10 PREFACE. 

comprehending so wide a variety of topics, each of them 
requiring for its full elucidation considerable power of 
abstract thought, it were presumption to conceive that 
there are no mistakes of doctrine as well as of phrase- 
ology ; and he expects to derive much instruction from 
the friendly remarks (for he will not anticipate any of a 
different description) of the various critics who may 
honor his work with their notice. He trusts, however, 
that it will not be entirely useless. He can with truth 
say, that his object in thus venturing to appear at the 
bar of the public, has been to advance the interests of 
what he acknowledges is to him a favorite science. He 
regards that science as being even yet in a state of in- 
fancy ; and when succeeding writers shall have carried 
it, as they doubtless will, to a higher point of advance- 
ment than that to which it has at present attained, he 
trusts that, though he may be constrained by their la- 
bors to relinquish some of his present sentiments, he 
shall not be the last to offer them his thanks. 

In committing this volume to the press, the author 
has had more immediately in view the benefit of his 
junior brethren in the ministry ; and of that large body 
of British youths whom the advancing spirit of the age 
will compel to devote some attention to the subjects on 
which it treats, and who may feel their need of some 
such assistance as the present work attempts to supply. 
At the same time it has not received any such peculiar 
adaptation to either of these classes as to render it, on that 
account, less fit for circulation beyond the boundary of 
the circle just referred to. The connexion between some 
of the doctrines 'of Mental Science and various parts of 



PREFACE. 11 

Theological Truth has indeed been exhibited ; and it 
is hoped that this circumstance will not render the 
volume less acceptable to those whose religious opinions 
are in harmony with the sentiments of the writer. Yet 
he is not aware that his Theology has influenced his 
philosophical opinions. He rests the views he enter- 
tains concerning the nature and properties of the human 
mind, upon the ground on which he believes in the duc- 
tility, &c. &c. of gold — on the ground, that is, of obser- 
vation alone. He has endeavored to examine the sub- 
stance mind, as we examine the substance gold ; and 
he has ascribed no properties to it but such as in this 
manner he found, or, at least, fancied he found it to pos- 
sess. He has certainly rejoiced to see that what he re- 
gards as the true principles of Mental Science are in 
union with those views of revealed truth which appear 
to him of great and paramount importance ; his faith in 
both has been confirmed by the discovery of the alliance. 
Yet it would be to do injustice to the work to suppose that 
it attempts to found a system of Mental Philosophy on 
any peculiar religious opinions. It is conducted on phi- 
losophical principles ; and it respectfully invites the can- 
did attention of the man of science, as well as of the 
friend of eligion. 

A regard to brevity has prevented the author's en- 
lai'ging.on some points upon which he wished to enter 
more fully. He deemed it, on various accounts, inex- 
pedient that the work should extend beyond one volume. 
Should it happen to obtain so much favor from the pub- 
lic as to render a second edition necessary, he has it in 



12 PREFACE, 

contemplation to expand considerably that part of which 
treats on Moral Science, or rather to introduce additional 
topics and discussions ; and either to abridge the former 
part, or to add another volume, as circumstances and 
the advice of friends may seem to direct. In its present 
form he solicits for it the kind consideration of his friends, 
and the candid attention of an enlightened publico. 

Blackburn Academy, 1828. 



CONTENTS 



CHAP. I. 



INTRODUCTION. 

PAGE 
AH philosophical inquiries relate to Matter or Mind — importance of a 
knowledge of the latter — its influence upon physical science, in 
Education, Poetry, Eloquence, Criticism, Moral Science, Theolo- 
gy, &c. — its tendency to strengthen the faculties, &c. &c. . .21 

CHAP. II. 

THE OBJECT OF INTELLECTUAL SCIENCE ; AND THE MODE IN WHICH 
OUR INQUIRIES SHOULD BE CONDUCTED. 

Inquiries limited to the phenomena of Mind — its essence unknown, 
but not material — its properties to be ascertained by observation 
alone — the only questions are, What are the elements of our 
Thoughts, &c. and the order of their occurrence — the nature of 
Causation, Mental Analysis, &c. ...... 28 

CHAP. III. 

THE TRUE NATURE OF THE POWERS AND SUSCEPTIBILITIES OF THE 
MIND EXPLAINED. 

Thoughts, Ideas, Sensations, &c. are the Mind itself in particular 
states — Mental Powers, &.c. are capabilities of existing in these 
states — The nature of Physical Qualities, &c. .... 44 

CHAP. IV. 

THE MANNER IN WHICH OUR KNOWLEDGE OF THE MENTAL PHiE- 
NOMENA IS OBTAINED. 

The nature of Consciousness— statements of Reid, Stewart, Welsh, 
Brown, &c. — not a distinct power, &c. 52 

2* 



14 



CONTENTS. 



CHAP. V. 



THE ORIGIN OF THE NOTION OF SELF, AND THE IDENTITY OF THE 
THINKING PRINCIPLE, & c - &c. 

Difference between Stewart and Brown — The notion of Self, and the 
notion of Identity, not the same — the former intuitive, &c. . . 59 



CHAP. VI. 



ANALYSIS AND ARRANGEMENT OF THE MENTAL PHENOMENA. 

The power of recognizing Resemblances the basis of classification — 
different principles on which it may be conducted — modes adopted 
by Reid, Stewart, and Brown — reasons for following the latter . 63 



DIVISION I. 

External affections 

Order I. — Less definite]External Affections 
Order II. — Sensations. 



73 

76 
82 



GENERAL REMARKS CONCERNING SENSATION .' 

First — All Sensation is in the Mind : . 83 

Second — The term denotes those states of mind which directly result 
from a change in the state of the organ 87 

Third — It is not confined to those which are decidedly pleasurable or 
painful 88 

Fourth — The nature of the previous change in the state of the organ 
is unknown 89 

Fifth — The connexion between Matter and Mind is unknown — at- 
tempts to account for it — the theories of Des Cartes, Dr. Briggs, 
Hartley — fallacy — no especial mystery here . . . .90 

Sixth — External objects are known only relatively . . . . 97 
Important difference between Reid and Brown on this subject — 
mistakes of Reid and Stewart in reference to Primary and Seconda- 
ry Qualities and Perception — its true nature explained — Ancient 
theory of Perception by Images — Examined. 

Seventh — To Sensation all our knowledge may be traced . .116 

Statements of Locke, Leibnitz, Shaftesbury, Stewart, &,c. — Ex- 
amined. 



CLASSIFICATION OF OUR SENSATIONS. 

Class I. — Sensations of Smell, 

Considered in the following order: — The Organ — the Sensations — the 
Properties which produce them — the Knowledge derived from them, 123 



CONTENTS. 15 

PAGE 

Class II. — Sensations of Taste; 
The same order 128 

Class III. — Sensations of Hearing. 
The same order 131 

Class IV. — Sensations of Touch. 

The same order — Our knowledge of things external is not derived 
from the sense of Touch, but from Muscular Sensations — by In- ""^ 
tuition — Statements of Reid, Brown, Welsh, &c 133 

Class V. — Sensations of Sight. 

The same order — The knowledge of Distance, Magnitude, &c. not 
gained by this Sense — Extension involved perhaps in our original 
perceptions — Opinions of Reid, Brown, &c 144 



DIVISION II 



internal affections. 



Proof of their existence — their nature — importance — Phrenology — 
must be analyzed and classified — caution necessary here — mis- 
takes of Condillac, Reid, kc 154 

Order I. — Intellectual States of Mind. 

Class I. — Simple Suggestions, 

Explained — the power by which they arise — the phrase, ' association 
of ideas,' improper — importance of the difference between Reid and 
Brown here — value of the faculty of Suggestion — Laws of Sugges- 
tion stated by Hume, Stewart, &c. — may be resolved into three : 166 

First Law of Suggestion. 

Resemblance. 

Analagous as well as resembling objects are suggested — tendency to 
such suggestions gives existence to a Metaphor, Simile — enlarges 
the boundaries of the arts and sciences, &c. .... 174 

Second Law of Suggestion. 

Contrast 177 



16 CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Third Law of Suggestion. 

CONTIGUITY. 

Objects contiguous in place and in time are suggested — influence of 
this law in the study of Chronology, History, &.c. — circumstances 
which modify the influence of these laws — especially constitutional 
differences — original tendencies to different species of Suggestions, 
give birth to genius — its nature — the faculty of Suggestion power- 
fully stimulated by objects of Perception — Conceptions may co-exist 179 



ATTENTION, 

Not an original power — but Desire co-existing with some other men- 
tal affection : 186 



CONCEPTION, MEMORY, IMAGINATION. 

Statements of preceding writers — are not distinct powers — may be 
resolved into Suggestion — why they have been considered distinct 
— Reminiscence — mistakes in reference to Imagination — the se- 
parate parts of complex conceptions arise neither directly nor indi- 
rectly by volition — what takes place in the mind when Arguments 
and Images are said to be selected 192 



206 



Class II. — Conceptions of Relations. 



Their nature explained — different from Simple Conceptions — and 
from Perceptions — imply the existence of a distinct Power . . 210 

Species I. — Relations of Co-existence. 

Position, Resemblance or difference, Proport ; on, Degree, Compre- 
hension — the faculty of recognizing Resemblances the source of 
classification and of general terms — their nature explained — No- 
minalists and Realists — mistakes of both — proof that we have 
general Ideas — explanation of their nature 213 

JUDGING, REASONING, &c. 

General statements of Reid and Stewart — the power of recognizing 
relations accounts for the phenomena of Judging, &c. &c. — amen- 
tal Judgment is the recognition of a Relation — when expressed in 
words, is a Proposition — Reasoning consists of a series of Proposi- 
tions, each expressing a relation of Comprehension — explanations 
and illustrations — all series of such propositions do not constitute 
Reasoning — the particular connexion between each which is ne- 
cessary — the manner in which they arise mentally in the required 
order — not by Sagacity, but Suggestion 220 



CONTENTS. 17 



ABSTRACTION. 



. 231 



Obscurity of some preceding writers — may be resolved into Sugg( 
tion — Abstract Notions — their nature — how formed . 

Species II. — relations of succession. 

Conceptions of the order of Events — Supply the place of History — 
Prophecy . ; 235 

Order II. — Emotions. 

Differ from intellectual States — must be analyzed and classified — do 
not admit of generic distinctions — examination of Cogan's state- 
ments — indefinite — self-contradictory — different modes of classify- 
ing them stated — Dr. Brown's arrangements — why adopted . 237 

Class I. — Immediate Emotions. 

Cheerfulness 247 

Melancholy ; 248 



SURPRISE, WONDER, AND ASTONISHMENT. 

Called by Cogan, Introductory Emotions — his obscurity — are distinct 

and original feelings — mistake of Adam Smith — their moral use . 251 
Languor 256 



BEAUTY, 

An Emotion not a Sensation — of a pleasing kind — transferred to the 
object which excites it — which is hence called beautiful — is an 
affection of mind only — not an external Essence — inquiry whether 
any material objects originally awaken the Emotion — opinions of 
Dr. Brown and Mr. Payne Knight on one side, and of Messrs. 
Alison and Jeffery on the other — Reasons for considering Beauty 
as the result of association 257 



SUBLIMITY. 

The Emotion is transferred to the object — Beauty and Sublimity 
probably different emotions — Sublimity in material objects the re- 
sult of Association — apparent inconsistency of Dr. Brown . .270 

Deformity and Ludicrousness ...... 275 



MORAL APPROBATION AND DISAPPROBATION. 

The Mind formed to approve what is right, he. the moral Emotion 
follows the moral judgment — conceived mistake of Dr. Brown — 
importance of these Emotions ....... 276 



18 CONTENTS. 

PAGE 
LOVE AND HATRED. 

Analysis of each — importance of both 280 

SYMPATHY 

Is felt with Pleasure as well as Pain— perhaps with the latter more 
powerfully — why so — may perhaps be resolved into Suggestion — 
displays the Divine goodness 284 

PRIDE AND HUMILITY 

Explained — are Emotions — their moral aspect .... 289 
Class II. Retrospective Emotions . . . 291 

ANGER. 

Its nature explained — modifications — not evil per sc, but in danger 
of becoming so ibid. 

GRATITUDE, 

A modification of Love — kindled by a conception of the amiablene3s 
of the benefactor . . . ... . . • 293 

REGRET AND GLADNESS 

Contain the Emotion, and a conception of its cause — most events 
awaken both emotions — importance of a desire to trace their favor- 
able consequences 295 

REMORSE AND SELF-APPROBATION 

Explained — distinct from Moral approbation and Disapprobation — 
constitute the power of Conscience — statements of different writers 296 

Class III. — Prospective Emotions. 

Desire and Fear explained and distinguished — the origin of Desire — 
statements of Drs. Price and Brown — Reasons for dissenting from 
them — different gradations of Desire expressed by the terms Wish, 
Hope, Expectation, Confidence, &c. — these not distinct Emotions 
— the nature of the Will — accounts of Mr. Locke, Dr. Reid, &c. 
mistakes — statements of Dr. Brown — Volition is Desire, arising in 
particular circumstances — cannot, therefore, be opposite to each 
other — application of the foregoing doctrine to Rom. vii. 15. — to 
the question of Liberty and Necessity — to the notion of the Self- 
determining Power of the Will, &c. — particular Desires . .299 






CONTENTS. 19 



THE DESIRE OF CONTINUED EXISTENCE. 

One of the most universal of our desires — existence a good per se 
chiefly valuable as that which may be rendered happy — the De- 
sire of Life not improper in itself— a principle of great practical 
importance 317 

THE DESIRE OF SOCIETY. 

Whether original — in what sense it is so 31S 

THE DESIRE OF KNOWLEDGE. 

Universality of the principle — manner in which it operates — Know- 
ledge in itself delightful — desired consequently on its own account 
— chiefly for the sake of its consequences 319 

THE DESIRE OF POWER. 

Its origin — progress — may lead to the desire of knowledge — Elo- 
quence — Rank, Station, &c — its moral character — the Desire of 
Wealth — how it arises — statements of Brown . . . .321 

THE DESIRE OF THE ESTEEM AND LOVE OF OTHERS, 

A distinct and original Emotion — its moral character . . . 327 

THE DESIRE OF SUPERIORITY 

Is an original principle. — Emulation not to be confounded with Envy 
— not evil in itself — whether lawful to appeal to it — affirmed . 328 



THE ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. 

The difference between Capabilities of Thinking, Feeling, &c. and the 
Rectitude of particular Thoughts, Sic. — Mental Science inquires 
concerning the former, — Moral Science, the latter. — Inquiries con- 
cerning the Rectitude of actions suppose a moral rule, &,c. — im- 
portant to ascertain what that is — first Inquiry . . - .331 

WHAT IS RECTITUDE? 

A quality in actions — an essential distinction between Right and 
Wrong — examination of various systems concerning the nature of 
Virtue 334 

First. — The Sceptical System — on what grounded — the foundation 
insecure — the theory of Hobbes, that Law gives actions a moral 
character, shown to be false ibid. 



20 CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Secondly. — The system of those who place the foundation of virtue 
in the Will of God — distinction to be observed— actions are not 
right because commanded, but commanded because they are right 337 

Thirdly. — The systems of those who represent Virtue as depending 
upon the constitution of the Mind — Theories of Hutcheson, Adam 
Smith, Brown — each has common and peculiar difficulties to en- 
counter — considered separately — Dr. Brown's at length — state- 
ment of his opinions on the subject of Morals — shown to be con- 
trary to his own principles of Philosophy — Objections . . . 339 

Fourthly. — The system of those who maintain that the consequences 
of actions impart to them their moral character — differences among 
the advocates of the general system — arguments in support of it — 
what may be conceded — arguments against it—the systems of pri- 
vate and Public Utility opposed — at variance with [the manner in 
which moral emotions arise — contrary to Scripture , . . 358 

Fifthly. — Rectitude is the conformity of affections and actions with 
Relations — an account of the relations in which we stand to God 
and to each other — some of the relations arbitrary, others not — 
the obligations which grow out of them never so — the systems of 
Clarke, Price— obscurity and mistakes of the latter — neither our 
Perceptions nor our Emotions a perfect criterion of virtue — that 
criterion the perfect intellect of God guided in its decisions by his 
infinitely holy nature — the nature of God the ultimate foundation 
and criterion of Rectitude 370 



WHAT IS .THE STANDARD OF RECTITUDE ? 

This question resolves itself into an inquiry, what Revelation God 
has made of himself— the material Creation contains a Revelation 
of him — improper language sometimes used here — The Scriptures 
the most Perfect Revelation — the office of Reason — the only ques- 
tion is, What readest thou ? . . . . . . • 378 



ELEMENTS 



OF 



MENTAL AND MORAL SCIENCE 



CHAP. I. 



INTRODUCTION. 



" The whole system of bodies in the universe," as it has 
been very justly stated, " may be called the Material world ; 
the whole system of minds, from the infinite Creator, to the 
meanest creature endowed with thought, may be called the 
Intellectual world." 

Such being the case, the subject of all philosophical inquiries 
must be either Matter, or Mind. To investigate the properties 
of the former, is the object of Physical Science ; to develop 
the nature and operations of the latter, belongs to the depart- 
ment of Metaphysics, or Mental Philosophy. 

It is true, that, as the mind is not thought or feeling, but 
that which thinks and feels, all our speculations with regard 
to mind belong to the general department of Physics. We do 
not, however, regret this arbitrary separation of the philosophy 
of Mind from that of Matter. It leads to a division of literary 
labor favorable to the advancement of both. 

Confining our observation to this world, the mind of man 
must be allowed to be the noblest production of Almighty 
power ; it deserves, therefore, our closest study. It must, how- 
ever, be admitted, that an investigation of the nature and pro- 
perties of Mind, is not unattended with difficulty ; and that it may 
be conducted in a manner little calculated to yield much valu- 
able fruit. To these two causes we may, perhaps, chiefly trace 

3 



2'2' INTROBUCTIONV 

that absurd prejudice against all inquiries of this nature, which 
prevails — we lament the necessity of admitting — to a consider- 
able extent, even in the present day. The prejudice is properly 
designated absurd, for Mr. Hume long ago observed, that "all 
the sciences have a relation to human nature." It is manifest, 
indeed, that the mind is the instrument which is employed in 
every disquisition into which we enter; the measure of success 
which attends our application of this instrument must accord- 
ingly depend, in some degree at any rate, upon thejperfection 
of our knowledge of its nature. The importance, however, of 
Mental Science is not a subject to be thus cursorily dismissed ? 
the subsequent part of this chapter will, therefore, be devoted 
to a more full development of that importance. 

A writer of powerful talents* has endeavored to depreciate 
all investigations of this kind by statements of which the follow- 
ing is the substance. Matter and Mind present distinct phe- 
nomena, of which the former may be the subject of actual ex- 
periment, the latter only of observation. By experiments in 
physics, the nature of any substance may be so ascertained, as 
to enable us to manage it at pleasure. With regard to mind? 
the case, it is alledged, is different. Here we can do no more 
than observe the phsenomena ; their order and succession are 
beyond our control. We may examine them minutely ; we 
may describe them accurately ; but, as we cannot subject them 
to experiment, we obtain no more power over them. " In 
metaphysics certainly," he adds, " knowledge is not power ; 
mstead of producing new phsenomena to elucidate the old, by 
well-contrived and well-conducted experiments, the most dili- 
gent inquirer can do no more than register and arrange the ap- 
pearances, which he can neither account for nor control." 

Mr. Stewart admits the premises of this writer, without ac- 
quiescing in his conclusion ; because, as he states, " the dif- 
ference between experiment and observation consists merely 
in the comparative rapidity with which they accomplish their 
discoveries ; or rather," he adds, " in the comparative com- 
mand we possess over them, as instruments for the investiga- 
tion of truth. The discoveries of both, when actually effected, 
are so precisely of the same kind, that it may safely be affirm- 
ed, there is not a single proposition true of the one, which will 
not be found to hold equally with respect to the other."| 

A little consideration may, perhaps, serve to convince us, 
that Mr. Stewart has admitted more than he needed to have 

* Vide Edinburgh Review,~vol. iii. p. 269. 
1 Philosophical Essays, pp. 33, 34. 



INTRODUCTION. 23 

done, — that the distinction of the objector is a distinction with- 
out a difference : for the business of the philosopher is observa- 
tion, and observation alone. He is to watch how the proces- 
ses of nature (the term nature is used here to prevent circum- 
locution) are carried on in the departments both of matter and 
of mind. It is possible, indeed, to secure, by a little effort on 
our part, a more frequent recurrence of some of these proces- 
ses than would otherwise take place. Instead of watching, for 
instance, for the accidental fall of a stone from a certain emi- 
nence, in order to ascertain at what rate the velocity of falling 
bodies is accelerated, we may cause it to be frequently thrown 
from that eminence, and thus gain, in considerably less time, 
the desired information ; but still there is nothing more than 
observation here. The stone is brought to the ground, in each 
case, by the laws of nature (to adopt popular phraseology ;) 
its motion is accelerated, in each case, by the same laws ; and 
we watch the process of descent, that we may ascertain the 
law of acceleration. 

Should it be said that the essence of the experiment consists 
in giving the motion to the stone, and not in the notice we take 
of the manner and velocity of its descent, it will be easy to re- 
ply, that we may, in a similar manner, make experiments upon 
mind. We may set Mind in action as well as Matter; and to 
«very attempt to discover the laws of Mind, by originating any 
mental process, either in our own bosoms, or in the bosoms of 
others, the name of experiment may be given with as much 
propriety as to any trial in the department of physics. 

And if mind can be thus subjected to trial, or even to obser- 
vation only, in the sense of the objector, so that the general 
laws which guide its operations maybe ascertained, why should 
it be said that knowledge, in the philosophy of mind, is not 
power ? Why may not a knowledge of general laws be turned 
to a good practical account, in the one case, as well as in the 
other ? The assertions of the Reviewer are at direct variance 
with the facts of the case. " What," says Mr. Stewart, " is 
the whole business of education, when systematically and ju- 
diciously conducted, but a practical application of rules, de- 
duced from our own experiments, or from those of others, on 
the most effectual modes of developing and of cultivating the 
intellectual faculties and the moral principles ?" He adds, with 
great truth, " that education would be more systematic and en- 
lightened, if the powers and faculties on which it operates were 
more scientifically examined, and better understood." These 
remarks may be sufficient to show that the objection to which 



24 INTRODUCTION. 

reference has been made, ought not to prevent oar entrance 
into the temple of Mental Science. To this entrance many 
considerations invite us. 

1. The important influence of Mind, and a knowledge of 
Mind, upon physical science in general. Science is the com- 
parison of phenomena, and the discovery of their agree- 
ment or disagreement — or the order of their succession. 
All science is, then, as Dr. Brown very justly states, in the 
mind ; for it is the mind which perceives, arranges, judges, 
reasons, &c. ; and these perceptions, classifications, and rea- 
sonings, which are purely mental phsenomena, constitute 
science. There might, accordingly, be objects of science 
without mind, but not science itself; and since all science is 
in the mind, and must, consequently, derive its character from 
the nature and susceptibilities of the mind, it is manifest that 
the constitution of the latter could undergo no material change, 
without effecting an entire alteration in the aspect of all physi- 
cal science.* 

But though this should be conceded, it might still be ob- 
jected, that the admission does not prove the necessity of pos- 
sessing any knowledge of the mind ; that men may make 
great progress in physical science, who pay no attention to in- 
tellectual philosophy. We reply, that unless they conduct their 
investigations according to rules which nothing but a know- 
ledge of mind can supply, the hope of a satisfactory result must 
be groundless. The history of the world establishes, beyond 
all question, the truth of the above statement. To what is it to 
be ascribed, that physical science, previous to the time of Ba- 
con, presented so meagre and dwarfish an appearance ? Were 
there, amongst its votaries, no men of ardor and genius ? 
This will not be pretended. The truth is, that some of them 
possessed transcendent talent ; but their profound ignorance 
of the human mind impelled them to a blind activity more mis- 
chievous than idleness itself. " It is not," says Dr. Brown, 
" the waste of intellect, as it lies torpid in the great multitude 
of our race, that is alone to be regretted in relation to science, 
which, in better circumstances, it might improve and adorn. 
It is, in many cases, the very industry of intellect, busily exert- 
ed, but exerted in labors that must be profitless, because the 
objects, to which the labor is directed, are beyond the reach 
of rnin."f 

( - It is of great use to the sailor," says Mr. Locke, " to know 

* Vide Brown's Lectures, vol. i. p. 17-26. 
t Vol. i. p. 43. 



INTKODirCTION. 2§ 

the length of his line, though he cannot with it fathom all the 
depths of the ocean." The Anti-Baconian philosophers did 
not know the length of their line. They had not properly sur- 
veyed the powers of their minds ; and the misdirected "indus- 
try of intellect" carried them into fields of investigation, from 
whence nothing which promised any benefit to mankind could 
possibly be gathered. Nor was it till Bacon had introduced 
juster principles of physical inquiry — principles which were the 
result of more correct views of the nature, faculties, and laws 
of the mind — that physical science commenced that splendid 
career of improvement which has equally astonished and de- 
lighted mankind. In looking " to those rules of physical inves- 
tigation which he has given us, we are too apt," says Dr. Brown,, 
*' to think of the erroneous physical opinions which preceded 
them, without paying sufficient attention to the false theories 
of intellect which had led to those very physical absurdities." 
w We must not forget that the temple which he purified, was not 
the temple of external nature, but the temple of the mind ; that 
in its inmost sanctuaries were all the idols which heoverthrew ; 
and that it was not till these were removed, and the intellect 
prepared for the presence of a nobler divinity, that Truth would 
deign to unveil herself to adoration : — as in the mysteries of 
those eastern religions, in which the first ceremony for admis- 
sion to the worship of the God, is the purification of the wor- 
shiper."* 

2. Consider the important aid which an intimate acquaint- 
ance with the nature and powers of the mind, may be made to 
afford to those arts in which mind is the subject of direct ope- 
ration. Such are the arts of Education, Poetry, Eloquence, 
Criticism, &c. &c. The object at which they aim is to origi- 
nate certain habits, or trains of thought, and to awaken various 
feelings of pleasure, transport, enthusiasm, anger, fear, sympa- 
thy, &c, to kindle them into momentary or permanent exist- 
ence, as the circumstances of the case may require. Now, if 
it be the fact, that our thoughts and feelings are united in the 
relation of cause and effect, and, consequently, follow one ano- 
ther in a certain train, how can it be doubted that the teacher, 
the poet, the orator, &c, must be acquainted with the order of 
their succession, before he can cherish any rational hope of 
effecting the object he has in view ? Ignorant of this, he might 
strengthen propensities and habits (as is too frequently done by 
empyrics in education) which he desired to subdue ; and rouse 9 

♦ Vol. i.pp>28,29> 
3* 



26 INTRODUCTION. 

into fearful and resistless energy, passions which, as he ima- 
gined, he was taking the most prudent measures to allay. 

Should it be said that the order of the successions of human 
thought and feeling is as perfectly known to the peasant as to 
the most profound philosopher, so that the study of Mental 
Philosophy is unnecessary, it may be replied, first, that the as- 
sertion is not true ; the more obvious, and ordinary, and every 
day successions, being all that are known to the great body of 
mankind ;* and, secondly, that if it were true, it would not de- 
tract from the value of intellectual philosophy, but prove merely 
that the very men who urge the objection, possess more of this 
philosophy, and are more deeply indebted to it, than they have 
the good sense and gratitude to acknowledge. 

3. Consider the important bearing of the Philosophy of Mind 
upon moral science and theological investigations. It is the 
assertion of a very judicious writer, that " a man might as rea- 
sonably entitle himself a learned physician, though he had never 
studied anatomy, as esteem himself an adept in moral science, 
without having obtained an intimate acquaintance with the af- 
fections, passions, and sentiments of the human heart." Men- 
tal Philosophy is the anatomy of human nature : is it possible, 
then, to exhibit the rationale of Morals, if we are ignorant of 
this species of anatomy 1 The rectitude of moral precepts de- 
pends upon the powers and susceptibilities of those to whom 
they are addressed. There must be a harmony and corres- 
pondence between what is required from moral agents, and 
what is given to them ; and without an intimate acquaintance 
with the latter, this correspondence must be, in a considerable 
degree at least, veiled from our view. 

One branch of mental philosophy relates to those states of 
mind which constitute, when they exist in certain circumstances, 
our moral affections ; such as Hatred, Love, Gratitude, Anger, 
Desire, &c. To possess an intimate acquaintance with the 
nature, causes, and results of these emotions, must be of in- 
calculable importance to the Christian moralist. They are the 
springs of human conduct. To be able to touch them requires 
obviously a knowledge of the manner in which they arise ; and 
one of the main causes to which is to be ascribed the power 
which one mind frequently exercises over others, bending and 
directing them at its will, is the superior acquaintance of its 
possessor with the order of succession of human thought and 
feeling, and his consequent higher capability of originating that 

* Vide Stewart, vol. i. pp. 282, 283. 



INTRODUCTION. 27 

train, which will ultimately lead to the accomplishment of his 
own purposes. " It is principally on this account," says an 
excellent writer, " that almost all the best practical writers on 
religion have been mental philosophers. They are not satis- 
fied to show what is the meaning, or what the extent, of any 
precept ; but they endeavor to trace the avenues by which it 
may be conducted to the recesses of the heart, and to detect 
the principles of our own nature to which it has the nearest al- 
liance, or from which the most obstinate hostility may be ex- 
pected. And, on the other hand, it is, in part at least, from 
ignorance of the mental constitution, that many persons de- 
ceive themselves in many things of great practical importance ; 
are insensible to the growth of the most dangerous associa- 
tions ; mistake the real sources of their errors in conduct ; con- 
found the more amiable natural dispositions with the evidences 
and fruits of sanctification ; or remain insensible to dormant 
principles of sin, which they might have discovered and mor- 
tified, till a powerful temptation draws them forth to a terrible 
and fatal activity." 

And who can doubt the important aid which an accurate ac- 
quaintance with the nature and faculties of the mind will afford 
to the theological student ? The reference here is not so much 
to the precision of thought and statement which the study of 
intellectual science cannot fail to produce, though its value, 
even in this point of view, can scarcely be too highly appreci- 
ated ; but to many interesting and important questions in the- 
ology, in reference to which it is not too much to affirm, that 
no man who has not paid considerable attention to intellectual 
science, can form an enlightened judgment. The subjects of 
Free Agency, Predestination, &c. will immediately occur to 
the mind of the reader. Their intimate connection with men- 
tal science must be obvious to all ; a necessary regard to bre- 
vity forbids any thing more than this bare reference to them. 

4. Reflect upon the powerful tendency of intellectual phi- 
losophy to discipline and strengthen the mind. The design of 
education is not so much to impart information, as to give tone 
and vigor to the mental powers — to form the understanding to 
habits of thought at once "bold and cautious, patient and dis- 
cursive," comprehensive and profound. To effect this pur- 
pose, " those sciences in which the evidence is only proba- 
ble, possess manifest advantages over those in which it is de- 
monstrative." The evidence which the mathematician requires, 
and without which he will not, in his department of science, ad- 
mit the truth of any proposition, cannot be obtained as the 



28 THE OBJECT OP 

guide of our conduct, even in cases of great moment, and re- 
quiring prompt decision. It is on moral evidence that we must 
act in all the relations we sustain both to God and to each 
other. Now, if the constant habit of requiring and obtaining 
demonstrative evidence should not produce a sceptical bias in 
the mind of the mathematician, which Mr. Stewart denies, it 
must, we should think, infallibly render him less competent to 
judge in cases when the only evidence to direct him is that with 
which he is less conversant and familiar — it must, in a measure, 
unfit him to decide on probable evidence, and where probabili- 
ty, as is sometimes the case, opposes probability. The stu- 
dies to which the attention of the reader is directed, in this 
work, are the best guides here. They tend more eminently 
than any others " to form reflective habits of mind ; for reflec- 
tion is necessary for observing the phenomena on which we 
are to reason ; it is requisite for comparing, combining, and 
separating them ; it is requisite ultimately for ascertaining the 
laws to which they are subjected." 

5. To all this it may be added, that while other sciences re- 
quire a considerable apparatus of books, &c. and opportunities 
of general information, the mental philosopher carries the ma- 
terials of his art constantly about him. They are perpetually 
present, and ready for his use ; " pernoctant nohiscum, pe- 
regrinantur, rusticantur ; and the most vulgar incidents 
in life, which only distract the thoughts of other speculators, 
furnish to him not unfrequently occasions for examining anew 
the principles he has established, and supply hints for their en- 
largement, illustration, or correction." 



CHAP. II. 

THE OBJECT OF INTELLECTUAL SCIENCE J AND THE MODE IN 
WHICH OUR INQUIRIES SHOULD BE CONDUCTED. 

We give the name of Mind to that mysterious principle with- 
in us, which constitutes "the permanent subject " of various 
phenomena, or properties, differing essentially from those 
which matter exhibits. Matter is that which is extended, divi- 
sible, impenetrable, &c. ; Mind is that which perceives, re- 
members, compares, judges, &c. Now the reader is especially 



INTELLECTUAL SCIENCE. 29 

requested to observe, that the object of the present inquiry is to 
ascertain what are the phenomena, or properties, or qualities of 
mind, and not what is the essence of mind. Indeed, o-f the es- 
sence both of matter and of mind we are profoundly ignorant. 
We know that matter is extended, &c. &c. ; — that mind per- 
ceives, &c. &c. — i. e. we know the properties of each. We 
know, at least, some of the various ways in which matter affects 
us — some of the various states in which mind may exist. But 
this is not to know the essence of either ; it is to know them 
both, not absolutely, but relatively only. 

There is no difference of opinion among our best philoso- 
phers on this point. " The essence both of body and of mind," 
says Dr. Reid, "is unknown to us. We know certain proper- 
ties of the first, and certain operations of the last, and by those 
only we can define or describe them."* " If I am asked," adds 
Mr. Stewart, " what I mean by Matter? I can only explain my- 
self by saying, it is that which is extended, figured, colored, &c. 
&c. ; i. e. I can define it in no other way than by enumerating 
its sensible qualities. It is not matter, or body, which I perceive 
by my senses ; but only extension, figure, color, and certain other 
qualities, which the constitution of my nature leads me to refer 
to something which is extended, figured, and colored. The case 
is precisely similar with respect to Mind. We are not imme- 
diately conscious of its existence, but we are conscious of sen- 
sation, thought, and volition ; operations which imply the ex- 
istence of something which feels, thinks, and wills. ""f "Jn this 
respect," states Dr. Brown, " the philosophy of matter and of 
mind completely agree — that in both equally our knowledge is 
confined to the phenomena which they exhibit." — " What mat- 
ter is, independent of our perception we know not." — " If our 
knowledge of matter be relative only, our knowledge of mind 
is equally so. We know it only as susceptible of feelings that 
have already existed, &c."J " That we know nothing more of 
the mind," says the Rev. Mr. Welsh, " than that, from the 
time of our birth till the present moment, it has existed in cer- 
tain states of thought and feeling, is a position so very obvious, 
that I can scarcely conceive it to be disputed."^ 

Our inquiries are then to be limited to the phenomena, or 
properties of mind. To prevent the possibility of mistake, on 
the part of those who have not made mental science the sub- 
ject of their inquiries, it may be well to state distinctly, 

* Reid's Essays, vol. i. p. 26. t Elements,vol. i. p. 3. Svo. 

I Reid's Essays, vol. i. p. 193, 195, & 206. § Memoirs of Brown, p. 214. 



30 THE OBJECT OF 

First, that it is by no means intended to intimate a doubt 
with reference to the existence of mind. The sceptical philo- 
sopher maintains, that our successive thoughts and feelings 
constitute mind itself; and that the qualities of hardness, color, 
form, weight, divisibility, &c. constitute matter. With the sin- 
gle exception of seriously attempting to refute a dogma so ex- 
travagant as this, it is'scarcely possible to conceive of a greater 
absurdity. The preceding statements, while they abandon all 
intention of inquiring into the essence of mind, take for granted 
its existence, by exhibiting it as the permanent subject of cer- 
tain varying phenomena of which we are conscious. 

Nor, secondly, is it intended to intimate that there may be 
no essential difference between the essence of matter and of 
mind ; for all the speculations of intellectual science take it 
for granted that such a difference exists, and, on the supposi- 
tion of there being none, would be perfectly absurd. We in- 
quire, at one time, into the qualities of the substance matter ; 
we inquire, at another time, into the qualities of the substance 
mind, (the term substance, in reference to the rnind, is used to 
avoid circumlocution,) as contradistinguished from those of 
matter : but if the essence of matter and mind be not essen- 
tially different, the subject of our inquiries is, in both cases, 
the same. Though it must, accordingly, be confessed to be 
unphilosophical to speculate concerning the positive essence of 
the mind, it is not unphilosophical to attempt to show that that 
essence is not material. The importance, not to say necessity, 
of doing this, is greater, we conceive, than Mr. Stewart, or even 
Dr. Brown, seems disposed to allow. The former indeed 
says, that " the conclusions to which we are led, by a careful 
examination of the phenomena which mind exhibits, have no 
necessary connection with our opinions concerning its nature."* 
This statement is surely not correct. Are we not in the con- 
stant habit of contending that the complexity, which we cannot 
but ascribe to the mental phaenomena, cannot be similar to that 
which is produced by the union of two or more substances, so 
as to form one physical whole, because the mind is a simple in- 
divisible essence 1 Do we not assume the indivisibility of the 
mind in many of our speculations 1 And have we any right to 
<Io this, without previously proving the immateriality of mind, 
i. e. that its essence, though unknown, is different from that of 
matter 1 

Into an extended argument on this subject my limits will 

* Vol. i. p, 7- 



r INTELLECUAL SCIEKCE. 31 

not permit me to go : it must be sufficient to glance at the 
proof which may be adduced. Two distinct classes of phe- 
nomena, viz. extension, divisibility, gravity, form, color? 
attraction, repulsion, &c. ; and perception, memory, reason- 
ing, joy, grief, &c, become known to us, in radically dif- 
ferent ways ; the one, through the medium of the external 
senses — the other by consciousness. Are these phenomena 
the qualities of the same substance ? Is it reasonable to sup- 
pose that properties so opposite to each other, the knowledge 
of which is obtained in so different a manner, inhere in the 
same permanent subject ? If the qualities are thus essentially 
different, must not the essence be essentially different ? The 
argument is/however, yet but partially developed. Some of 
these qualities are incompatible with each other, so that, like 
length and shortness, when the comparison is with the same 
objects, they cannot possibly be the qualities of the same sub- 
stance. Sensation and thought belong to one of the classes of 
properties which have been specified ; divisibility is included 
in the other. If sensation and thought were properties of mat- 
ter, they must be divisible, because matter is divisible ; every 
separate particle of the thinking and feeling whole, must pos- 
sess a separate portion of sensation and thought ; as every 
separate particle possesses the power of attraction. But sen- 
sation and thought are not divisible, consciousness being judge \ 
the permanent subject, therefore, of these qualities, whatever be 
its positive nature, is certainly not material. 

The Mind then is to be regarded as a substance endowed 
with certain properties, susceptible of various affections or mo- 
difications, which, existing successively as momentary states 
of the mind, constitute all the phenomena of thought and feel- 
ing : our object is to ascertain what these properties, powers, 
and susceptibilities of the mind are. How then is this to be 
done ? The answer shall be given in the following admirable 
statement by Dr. Brown : — " We must inquire into the pro- 
perties of the substance Mind, in the same way as we ascer- 
tain the properties of the substance Matter. As we say of gold, 
that it is that which is of a certain specific weight,* yellow, 
ductile, fusible at a certain temperature, and capable of certain 
combinations, because all these properties have been observed 
by ourselves or others ; so we say of the Mind, that it is that 
which perceives, remembers, compares, and is susceptible of 
various emotions, or other feelings ; because of all those we 
have been conscious, or have observed them indirectly in oth- 
ers. We are not entitled to state with confidence any quality 



32 THE OBJECT OF 

as a property of gold, which we do not remember to have ob- 
served ourselves, or to have received on the faith of the obser- 
vation of others, whose authority we have reason to consider 
as indubitable ; and as little are we entitled to assert any qua- 
lity, or general susceptibility, as belonging to the human mind, 
of which we have not been conscious ourselves in the feelings 
resulting from it, or for which we have not the authority of the 
indubitable consciousness of others."* And again : " Let it 
then never be forgotten, that the powers and operations of the 
mind can only be ascertained by a careful observation of the 
mind itself; and that we might as well attempt to discover by 
logic, unaided by observation and experiment, the various co- 
lored rays that enter into the composition of a sun-beam, as 
to discover by dialectic subtleties, & priori, the various feelings 
that enter into a single thought or passion."f 

The preceding statements exhibit the Baconian method of 
investigation, in its application to Mind. It is truly wonderful, 
as well as melancholy, that so many centuries should have 
rolled away before it was distinctly perceived, that the proper- 
lies and laws of Mind can be ascertained by observation and 
induction alone. In the employment of this method, it is how- 
ever necessary to remember, that it affords us no light with re- 
ference to the rectitude of our particular affections and con- 
duct. We discover by it, how we are capable, by the constitu- 
tion of the mind, of feeling and acting ; but not whether thus 
feeling and thus acting in any particular case, we should feel 
and act rightly. In one respect, indeed, the knowledge of what 
is, is identical with the knowledge of what ought to 6e'in man. 
The physical constitution of the mind is what it should be, be- 
cause it is what God made it. When, therefore, we have as- 
certained, by the inductive process, what are the natural sus- 
ceptibilities of the human mind, its various capabilities of feel- 
ing, we know what man should be in this point of view. But 
susceptibilities, or capabilities of feeling, &c. are to be distin- 
guished from actual feelings. A being who is susceptible of 
the angry emotions, unless he be a perfect moral agent, may 
be improperly angry. " When, therefore," says Dr. Brown, 
" we know that man has certain affections and passions, there 
still remains the great inquiry, as to the propriety or impropri- 
ety of those passions, and of the conduct to which they lead. 
We have to consider, not merely how he is capable of acting, 

* Vol. i. p. 85. i P. 7. 



INTELLECTUAL SCIENCE. 33 

but also whether, acting in the manner supposed, he would be 
fulfilling a duty or perpetrating a crime."* 

Our inquiry, then, regards the phenomena of Mind only ; 
and we are to depend, not upon hypothesis, but observation, 
for all the knowledge that is to be obtained upon the subject. 
With reference then to the phenomena of Mind, " What are 
the particular points to be examined ? " This is an inquiry of 
great practical importance. Had more attention been paid to 
it by preceding philosophers, the science of mind [would have 
made more rapid progress. Dr. Brown brings it prominently 
into view ; and it is to be ascribed, partly at least, to the cir- 
cumstance of his having kept this definite and proper object of 
inquiry so steadily before him, that his investigations have been 
attended with such splendid success. The phenomena of mind 
consist of certain thoughts and feelings, or, to use a single 
word, comprehending both, of certain states. Now the only 
questions which can be instituted here are the two following : 
" What is the order in which they arise ?" and " What are the 
elements of which they consist?" Leaving out of our consi- 
deration, for the present, the moral character of our various 
states of mind, (an inquiry which will be entered upon at the 
proper time and place,) it is imagined that the questions 
just mentioned comprise every topic of investigation in rela- 
tion to Mind. 

Dr. Brown illustrates this two-fold object of intellectual 
science by its analogy to the objects of natural science. All 
physical inquiry is directed to ascertain either the composition 
of bodies, or their powers and susceptibilities ; in other words, 
the elementary bodies which are to be found in any aggregate 
before us ; or the manner in which these aggregates affect 
other substances, and are affected by them in return, *. e. the 
changes which they produce or suffer. All the phsenomena of 
the material world consist of changes. Take, for example, 
the phenomenon of the solution of glass in the fluoric acid. 
What is this but a change in the state of the glass — a change 
from solidity to fluidity ? These changes can only be ascertain- 
ed by observation ; and the changes which one body produces 
upon all others, indicate its powers — the changes which it suf- 
fers from the action of others, its susceptibilities. 

The ingenious and excellent biographer of Dr. Brown has 
made some very just remarks upon his statement in reference 
to the composition of bodies. They evidently proceed, he 

* Vol. i. p. 9. Introduction. 
4 



3 4 



THE OBJECT OT 



thinks, upon the admission of the corpuscular hypothesis of 
Boscovich ; which, however ingenious and beautiful, is, as yet T 
only an hypothesis. He says, in substance at least, that it is 
impossible for us to discover the constituent elements of bodies, 
if such elements exist ; and that, even if we could, our know- 
ledge of them would be only relative ; we could learn nothing 
more concerning them, than the changes they would produce 
or suffer ; so that the two inquiries of Dr. Brown " may, in 
chemical science, be resolved into one : our sole object being r 
not to ascertain the original atoms that compose any body, but 
the changes which the body will undergo, or occasion, in new 
circumstances."* 

Taking the term element, however, not in the technical 
sense of Boscovich, but in the manner in which it is ordinarily 
used by chemists, viz. to denote those substances which appear 
to be simple, or uncompounded, (and it is not certain to me 
that Dr. Brown did not intend it to be understood in this sense,) 
it is manifestly the object of physical science to ascertain the 
elements as well as the powers and susceptibilities of bodies. 
But how then can the objects of Physical, illustrate those of 
Intellectual, Science ? Do our thoughts and feelings, or states 
of mind, stand in need of analysis, like manifestly compound 
physical substances 1 or do they even admit of such analysis ? 
Do they stand in the relation of cause and effect to each other, 
one thought introducing another thought, and one feeling ano- 
ther feeling, as certain effects always result from certain causes 
in the world of nature 1 If this be the case, it is manifest that 
the preceding remarks concerning the object of physical sci- 
ence, may be transferred to our inquiries relative to Mind. 
Of this, then, there can be no doubt. 

The phenomena of mind, like the phenomena of matter, fol- 
low each other in a regular order of succession, and are, conse- 
quently capable, of arrangement as causes and effects^ One 
great object of intellectual science is, then, to ascertain the 
laws of succession, without which such an arrangement can^ 
not be effected. We need not say any thing in support of the 
alledged fact, that a certain order is preserved in the succession 
of human thought and feeling ; no one will deny it. It is, how- 
ever, necessary for the reader particularly to observe, that all 
our knowledge of the laws of succession is derived from ex- 
perience. This, if he has not been accustomed to speculations 
of this kind, he may find it a little difficult to conceive. There 

* Welsh's Memoirs, p. 206. 



INTELLECTUAL SCIENCE. 35 

BTe some thoughts and feelings, which seem so naturally, and 
even necessarily, to result from other thoughts and feelings, 
that we are apt to imagine we should have been able to predict 
their sequence, independently of experience. Their apparent 
inseparable union is, however, the mere consequence of our 
having invariably found them together. The mind was doubt- 
less so formed by its Maker, as that the present order of suc- 
cession of thought and feeling should take place ; and, perhaps, 
we are warranted in saying, that while the present constitu- 
tion of the mind remains, a different order of succession is 
impossible. But that constitution was an arbitrary one. The 
mind might have been formed with other and different suscep- 
tibilities ; and its states might have followed each other in a 
radically different order. Nothing, then, can manifestly be 
known of mind — of its phsenomena — of their relation to each 
other, as cause and effect, but as the result of actual observa- 
tion. To suppose the contrary, is as absurd as to imagine that 
we might have predicted the properties of gold without exa- 
mination ; or that we might have described the nature of a 
machine, which depended entirely upon the arbitrary will of 
its inventor for its form, size, &c, without an actual inspec- 
tion of it. " There is nothing," says Dr. Brown, " in any one 
istate of mind, considered in itself, which necessarily involves 
the succession of any other state of mind. That particular 
state, for example, which constitutes the mere feeling of pain, 
instead of being attended by that different state which consti- 
tutes the desire of being freed from pain, might have conti- 
nued as one uniform feeling, or might have ceased, and been 
succeeded by some other state, though, in the original adaptation 
of our mental powers, by that Creator's wisdom which plan- 
ned the sequences of its phsenomena, the particular affection 
that constitutes a desire had not been one of the innumerable 
varieties of affection of which the mind was for ever to be 
susceptible." — " We are always too much inclined to believe, 
that we know what must have been, because we know what 
is." — " In the rarer successions of feeling, we allow that 
there are phsenomena of the mind, which we could not have 
foreknown ; but we find it difficult to imagine, in the recurrence 
of the common mental phsenomena, that, even originally, it 
could have required any peculiar foresight to predict, what 
we are now conscious of predicting with a readiness that 
.seems to us almost like the instant glance of intuition."* If a 

* P, 212-215. 



36 THE OBJECT OF 

doubt, with reference to the preceding statements, should re- 
main on the minds of any, I would refer them to the case of 
brutes. That brutes possess mind, i. e. something which is 
not matter, all but avowed materialists must allow. Yet the 
succession of states of feeling in the minds of brutes, is not 
the same with that which is observed in men — a decided proof 
that the properties of the substance Mind, and, a fortiori, the 
successions of its phenomena, being to us arbitrary, can only 
be ascertained by actual observation. 

This is not the case in the department of Mind alone. The 
statement holds good with reference tQ the successions of all 
phenomena, whether they be material or mental. Whether it 
be true or not that " better eyes " would enable us to discover 
the composition of bodies, it is undeniable that no increased 
power or delicacy of sensual organization could apprize us of 
their powers and susceptibilities. The changes which result 
from them, and in which, as we have seen, all the phsenomena 
of the natural world consist, can manifestly be known only by 
experience. Independently of experience, who could have pre- 
dicted that spring would invariably precede summer, and sum- 
mer as invariably follow spring — that the ascent of the sun 
above the horizon would be succeeded by day, and his descent 
by night ? " Who, by considering separately the mere sensible 
qualities of bodies, could ascertain the changes which, in new 
circumstances of union, they might reciprocally suffer or pro- 
duce ? Who could infer, from the similar appearance of a lump 
of sugar and a lump of calcareous spar, that the one would 
be soluble in water, and the other remain unmelted ; or, from 
the different aspect of gunpowder and snow, that a spark would 
be extinguished if it fell upon the one, and, if it fell upon the 
other, would excite an explosion that would be almost irresist- 
ible ? But for experience, we should be altogether incapable of 
predicting any such effects from either of the objects compared ; 
or if we did know that the peculiar susceptibility belonged to 
one of the two, and not to the other, we might as readily sup- 
pose that calcareous spar would melt in water as sugar, 
and as readily that snow as that gunpowder would detonate 
by the contact of a spark. It is experience alone which 
teaches us that these effects ever take place, and that they 
take place, not in all substances, but only in some particular 
substances."* 

There have, indeed, been philosophers who held the opinion, 

* Vol. i. p. 114. 



INTELLECTUAL SCIENCE. 37 

that " if we were acquainted with the intimate structure of bo- 
dies, we should then see, not merely what corpuscular changes 
take place in them, but why these changes take place, and should 
thus be able to predict, before experience, the effects which they 
would reciprocally produce." Mr. Locke, for instance, imagined 
that if we knew the mechanical affections of a particle of rhu- 
barb, hemlock, opium, and a man, we should be able to tell be- 
forehand that rhubarb will purge, hemlock kill, and opium make 
a man sleep. This opinion of Mr. Locke is obviously grounded 
upon the assumption, that all the changes which take place in 
the material universe, as well as in the cases he refers to, are the 
effects of contact and impulse, and of a kind, therefore, which 
may be termed, strictly, mechanical. On this sentiment, we 
observe, in the first place, that it is not supported by evidence ; 
and, secondly, that if it were as well as it is ill founded, it would 
leave the difficulty where it found it ; since the consequences 
-which result from mechanical influence, from even contact it- 
self, are known only by experience or testimony. We must 
see, in order to ascertain the reciprocal influence of bodies, 
i. e. their susceptibilities and powers. " That a ball in motion, 
when it meets another at rest, should force this to quit its place, 
appears now to be something which it required no skill or ex- 
perience to predict ; and yet, though our faculties were, in eve- 
ry respect, as vigorous as now; if we could imagine this most 
common of all pha3nomena to be wholly unknown to us ; what 
reason should we be able to discover in the circumstances that 
immediately precede the shock, for inferring the effect that 
truly results, rather than any other effect whatever? Were the 
laws of motion previously unknown, it would be in itself as 
presumable, that the moving ball should simply stop when it 
reached the other, or that it should merely rebound from it, as 
that the quiescent ball should be forced by it to quit its state of 
rest, and move forward in the same direction. We know, in- 
deed, that the effect is different, but it is because we have wit- 
nessed it that we know it ; not because the laws of motion, or 
any of the mechanical affections of matteT whatever, are quali- 
ties that might be inferred independently of observation."* 

Mr. Locke's statements, however, suppose that we do not 
know the mechanical affections of matter. Whatever, then, 
might have been the case with us, had we possessed this know- 
ledge, it is manifest, since we are destitute of it, that our ac- 
quaintance with the sequences of phenomena in the material 

Brown, pp. 120, 121. 

'4* 



38 THE OBJECT OF 

world, i. e. with the powers and susceptibilities of bodies, must 
be derived from experience alone. But here a difficulty sug- 
gests itself. Experience teaches us the past only, not the fu- 
ture. But to affirm of any body that it possesses certain powers 
and susceptibilities, is to state the changes which it will occasion 
and undergo to the end of time. If, then, there is nothing in the 
structure of bodies to enable us to predict these changes, from 
what source does our confidence that they will happen arise 1 
The only satisfactory reply, we apprehend, is, that it springs 
from an original principle of our nature. The great Former of 
the mind has so constituted it, that, on the sight of a certain 
operation of one body upon another, or of a certain change, ef- 
fected by the former, in the state or appearance of the latter, 
we are irresistibly led to believe that, in similar circum- 
stances, the same change will take place in all time to 
come. There is nothing wonderful in this; at any rate it 
is not more wonderful than that any thought, or feeling, or state 
of mind, should exist in any circumstances whatever. Here, 
as Dr. Brown justly observes, " nothing is wonderful, or all is 
wonderful !" The Creator of the universe ordained a certain 
order of sequence in the phenomena of the natural world ; and, 
by giving to us an original or instinctive belief in the regularity 
of this sequence, he has enabled us to foresee, and provide for, 
the physical events that are to arise, without which foresight the 
creatures for whom he has so bountifully provided, must have 
been left to perish, "ignorant and irresolute, amid elements 
that seemed waiting to obey them, and victims of confusion in 
the very midst of all the harmonies of the universe." 

To know the order in which the phsenomena of the material 
universe present themselves to our view, is to know them in the 
relation of cause and effect. If, then, there is nothing in the 
structure of bodies which can enable us to predict this relation, 
— if our knowledge of it is the result of experience alone, it 
follows that all we know in reference to a cause is, that it is 
the immediate and invariable antecedent of a certain change, 
to which we give the name of an effect. It is not said that 
there is nothing more in a cause than immediate and invariable 
antecedence ; for if there were not aptitude in a cause to pre- 
cede, and in an effect to follow; i. e. if there were not some- 
thing in the very constitution of the cause, to adapt it to stand 
in the relation of precedence, it would follow, in that case, that 
the cause and effect are only united like two nouns by a con- 
junction, and so might exchange places ; and, further, that 
there is nothing to tie them together but the direct energy of 



INTELLECTUAL SCIENCE. 39 

the great first cause ; so that, in fact, God is the only agent in 
the universe — a sentiment which, by annihilating all the indi- 
cations of skill, and contrivance, of adaptation of means to 
ends, with which the universe abounds, would overturn the 
foundation of morals as well as religion — the doctrine of the 
divine existence itself. 

On this subject I am constrained to dissent from the doc- 
trine of Dr. Brown. Admitting, as he does, that there is ap- 
titude in a cause to precede, he yet denies that a cause is any 
thing more than an immediate and invariable antecedent ; state- 
ments which appear to me irreconcilably opposed to each other. 
Had Dr. Brown contented himself with affirming that no third 
substance intervenes between the cause and the effect, by 
which their junction is effected ; had he even merely denied 
that we can form any conception of the nature of this aptitude, 
I could have gone along with him. But to maintain that there 
is nothing in a cause but immediate and invariable antece- 
dence, is, in my judgment, only a different mode of affirming 
that there is no aptitude in a cause to precede ; since aptitude 
to precede differs as much from actual precedence, as aptitude 
to produce sensation differs from the production of sensation, 
or from the sensation produced. It strikes me that this admi- 
rable writer has not sufficiently distinguished between the cause 
itself, and our notion of that cause. There may be nothing 
more in our conception of a cause, than that it immediately 
and invariably precedes a certain effect; but there may be 
something more in the cause itself. Our conception of the 
fragrance of a rose is, that it produces a certain sensation ; 
but the fragrance itself is something different from this. In 
like manner, our conception of a cause is that of immediate 
and invariable antecedence ; of its adaptation to be an antece- 
dent, we know nothing, we can form no distinct conception ; 
yet it necessarily differs from the antecedence itself, i. e. a 
cause is something more than an immediate and invariable 
antecedent. 

The same general principles apply to the philosophy of 
Mind, as well as to the philosophy of matter. The phaenomena 
of mind present themselves successively. The order of their 
sequence is ascertained by experience, and experience alone; 
there being nothing in one state of mind from which it would 
have been possible for us to predict the occurrence of any 
other, by which the Creator determined that it should be fol- 
lowed. Those thoughts and feelings which immediately pre- 
cede, we denominate causes ; those which immediately sue- 



40 THE OBJECT Of 

ceed, we call effects. God has so formed the human mind 
that there is an aptitude in certain feelings, or states of mind, 
to precede and follow one another ; but of that aptitude we 
can form, as we have said, no conception. All we know of the 
human mind, in this point of view, is confined to the bare fact, 
that there are certain laws, by which, or according to which, 
the order in the sequences of its phenomena are regulated ; 
and it is one great object of intellectual science to ascertain 
what these laws are. 

But the phenomena of mind may be further regarded as com- 
plex, and susceptible of analysis. The term analysis is of 
Greek origin, and signifies to untie or unloose. Its possible 
application to the different substances in nature, takes it for 
granted that they are not simple, but compound substances. 
It would seem, therefore, to follow as a necessary consequence, 
that no simple, uncompounded substance can be analysed ; that 
unless a body consists of parts, like a mechanical compound, 
where the parts are in juxta position, or in a state of aggrega- 
tion, — or a chemical compound, where they are in a state of 
intimate incorporation, it must be manifestly impossible to re- 
solve it into parts. 

A difficulty occurs here then in the science of Mind ; for as 
the mind is a simple indivisible essence, and as all its thoughts 
and feelings, however complex they may appear, must be, in 
reality, as simple and indivisible as the mind itself, it would ap- 
pear as if there could be no analysis of any of the mental phe- 
nomena. With respect to matter, the case is essentially dif- 
ferent. Here, with seeming simplicity there is real complexity. 
A piece of glass, which appears really simple, is, in truth, not 
so. It is composed of a vast number of particles of alkaline 
and silicious matter bound together, which the art of the che- 
mist can untie, and exhibit in a state of disunion. In this case, 
the simplicity and oneness is not in the body, but in our con- 
ceptions. Analysis is, accordingly, practicable here. But the 
most complex thought or feeling, whatever number of others 
have had influence in modifying it, is still only one feeling ; 
" for we cannot divide the states or affections of our minds in- 
to separate self-existing fractions, as we can divide a com- 
pound mass of matter into masses which are separate and self- 
existing, nor distinguish half a joy or sorrow from a whole joy 
or sorrow." And yet we cannot but regard some of our ideas 
and feelings as complex. In what sense then can complexity 
be ascribed to any of the mental phenomena ? How can they 
be analysed ? What is the meaning of the term analysis in its 



INTELLECTUAL SCIENCE. 41 

application to them ? To these questions, I am not aware of 
any statements which deserve a moment's regard, but those 
which are furnished us by Dr. Brown, and his ingenious bio- 
grapher, the Rev. Mr. Welsh. I shall endeavor to give the 
reader the substance of the remarks which are made by both 
these writers, accompanying them, as we proceed, with any 
observations which may occur to my own mind. 

Dr. Brown tells us that our original simple states of mind 
become so altered and modified, through the influence of the 
associating principle, combining others with them, that they 
may never afterwards be found in their original state ; that these 
modified states of mind, which result from the association of 
many thoughts and feelings, though they are, and in the very 
nature of the case must be, as simple as the mind itself, neces- 
sarily appear to us as if they were actually composed of the 
sentiments and feelings from which they have resulted, or by 
which they have been modified. A complex state of mind is, 
then, one which is the result of certain previous feelings, " to 
which, as if existing together, it is felt to have the virtual rela- 
tion of equality, or a relation which the whole bears to the parts 
that are comprehended in it. But the conception of a golden 
mountain is still as much one state or feeling of one simple 
mind, as either of the separate conceptions of gold, and of a 
mountain which preceded it." The process of analysis, then, 
in reference to mind, is the act of distinguishing the separate 
sensations, or thoughts, or emotions, which appear to be com- 
prehended in these complex feelings, or from which they have 
resulted. It is not the resolution of a substance actually com- 
pound into the elements of which it consists, but of one which 
appears to be compound, into what appear to be its elements. 
It is a mental or virtual untying of a certain feeling of mind, 
" which being considered by us as equivalent to the separate 
ideas from which it results, or as comprehensive of them, is 
truly to our conception — though to our conception only — and 
therefore only virtually or relatively to us the inquirers, the 
same as if it were composed of the separate feelings co-ex- 
isting, as the elements of a body co-exist in space." 

The Rev. Mr. Welsh thinks, on the contrary, that complex- 
ness, with reference to the mental phaenomena, is actual, or 
real ; and, consequently, that the analysis of the intellectual 
chemist are more than virtual. It is, however, not a complex- 
ness of substances as in the material world, but of relations 
only ; and so analogous to the vast diversity of aspects, and 
complexity of states under which bodies, perfectly simple in 



42 THE OBJECT OF 

themselves, exhibit themselves according to their relation to 
other objects. Analysis, then, in reference to mind, does not 
resemble the decompounding process of chemistry, because 
such a separation of parts is felt to be impossible ; but it bears, 
he adds, " a very striking analogy to that species of philoso- 
phy which is occupied with the general qualities of matter, and 
which, if it observes particular substances at all, observes them 
only with the design of resolving the phenomena they exhibit 
into their simplest and most general laws. Thus, we may re- 
solve the particular properties of gold into the general qualities 
of matter, and show that its weight, its colour, its form, its co- 
hesion, its motion, are but particular instances of the great 
laws of repulsion and attraction. In a manner analogous to 
this, we resolve the diversified phenomena of mind into a few 
simple and primitive laws, by which term we denote the most 
general circumstances in which the phenomena are felt by us 
to agree."* 

In a subsequent part of his book, where the views of this 
excellent writer are more fully developed, he supposes us to 
experience the sensation excited by the fragrance of a rose. 
In this case the mind exists in one simple relation to one qua- 
lity of an external object. The substance mind is simple ; its 
relation is also simple. But the sensation of fragrance may 
co-exist with the remembrance of the fragrance, or with other 
feelings. Here we have the mind existing in one simple state, 
in so far as it relates to its essential nature ; the consciousness, 
which is the result of the simultaneous influence of different 
objects upon the organs of sense, is also simple ; it is one 
state of one indivisible subject, but it is one state formed of a 
variety of relations.! 

I have endeavored to collect the substance of this writer's 
statements, though I have not been able to present them always 
in his own well-selected words. I have been the more anxious 
to do justice to the sentiments of my reverend friend, if he 
will allow me thus to designate him, because I cannot exactly 
agree with him, or rather, perhaps, because I do not fully com- 
prehend him. At first view, I acknowledge, his explanation of 
the complexness, which we cannot but ascribe to many of our 
mental states, appears to be recommended by greater simpli- 
city than that of Dr. Brown ; but I find myself unable to at- 
tach any very definite meaning to the term relation, as used by 
him, in this connexion. On the whole, I prefer the explana- 

• P. 210. t Pp. 234^5. 



INTELLECTUAL SCIENCE. 43 

tion of Dr. Brown, the substance of which is so admirably 
given in the following passage, that the reader will readily par- 
don me for quoting it. — " It is this feeling of the relation of 
certain states of mind, to certain other states of mind, which solves 
the whole mystery of mental analysis, that seemed at first so in- 
explicable ; the virtual decomposition, in our thought, of what is 
by its very nature indivisible. The mind, indeed, it mustbe allow- 
ed, is absolutely simple in all its states ; every separate state or 
affection of it must therefore be absolutely simple ; but in certain 
cases, in which a feeling is the result of other feelings preceding it, 
it is its very nature to appear to involve the union of those pre- 
ceding feelings ; and to distinguish the separate sensations, or 
thoughts, or emotions, of which, on reflection, it thus seems to 
be comprehensive, is to perform an intellectual process, which, 
though not a real analysis, is an analysis at least relatively to 
our conception."* And again, " "What the chemist does in mat- 
ter, the intellectual analysist does in mind ; the one distin- 
guishing by a purely mental process of reflection the elements 
of his complex feelings, as the other operates on his material 
compounds, by processes that are themselves material. Though 
the term analysis may be used in reference to both processes, 
the mental as well as the material, since the result of the pro- 
cess is virtually the same in both, it has been universally em- 
ployed by philosophers in the laws of the mind without any ac- 
curate definition of the process ; and I was careful, therefore, 
to explain to you the peculiar meaning in which it is strictly to 
be understood in our science ; that ycu might not extend to 
the mind and its affections, that essential divisibility which is 
inconsistent with its very nature ; and suppose that, when we 
speak of complex notions, and of thoughts and feelings that are 
united by association with other thoughts and feelings, we 
speak of a plurality of separable things. The complex mental 
phenomena, as I explained to you, are complex only in rela- 
tion to our mode of conceiving them. They are, strictly and 
truly,, as simple and indivisible states of a substance, which is 
necessarily, in all its states, simple and indivisible,— the results, 
rather than the compounds of former feelings, — to which, how- 
ever, they seem to us, and from the very nature of the feelings 
themselves, cannot but seem to us, to bear the same species 01 
relation which a whole bears to the parts that compose it. 
The office of intellectual analysis, accordingly, in the mode in 
which I have explained it to you, has regard to this relation 

* Pp. 220-1. 



44 POWERS ANE SUSCEPTIBILITIES. 

only. It is to trace the various affections or states of mind that 
have successfully contributed to form or to modify any pecu- 
liar sentiment or emotion, and to develop the elements, to 
which, after tracing this succession, the resulting sentiment or 
emotion is felt by us to bear virtually that relation of seeming 
comprehensiveness of which I spoke."* 

In the scientific examination of mind, analysis must be em- 
ployed, as well as in that of matter. It is less, perhaps, a sub- 
ject of wonder than of regret, to those who are acquainted with 
the literary productions of Mr. Dugald Stewart, that he should 
interpose the high authority of his name to prevent an entrance 
even into a field of investigation so important. How can it 
be doubted that in education, oratory and poetry, there would 
exist more power in guiding the thoughts and feelings of men 
in general, if we possessed a more intimate knowledge of the 
elements of our complex sentiments and affections ; i.e. a know- 
ledge of the varied simpler thoughts and feelings, which the 
power of association has bound indissolubly together 1 From 
the influence of how many circumstances, adapted to modify 
injuriously our subsequent states of mind, — to pervert the 
judgment, and to corrupt the heart,— rmight we be preserved, 
were intellectual science more generally studied and under- 
stood ! No man, whose sentiments are guided by Divine Re- 
velation, can expect that any attempted process of moral re- 
formation, without higher concurring energy, will subvert the 
empire of evil in the world. But every possible corrective of 
a moral nature we ought to employ ; while we look to higher 
instrumentality, and higher agency, for more glorious triumphs 
than any which education alone can achieve. 



CHAP. III. 



THE TRUE NATURE OF THE POWERS AND SUSCEPTIBILITIES OF THE 
MIND EXPLAINED. 

The phenomena of mind, or its varied thoughts and feel- 
ings, comprise, as we have seen, every thing in relation to it, 
of which we can obtain any knowledge. It will be desirable, 

* Vol. i. pp. 234-5. 



OF THE MIND EXPLAINED. 



45 



therefore, to endeavor to ascertain what is the notion we ought 
to form of these phenomena. 

The body possesses various members, distinct from each 
other, though they form unitedly one beautiful and perfect 
whole. And hence it is possible to lose one of the bodily 
members while the others remain, or to put one in motion, 
while the others continue at rest. 

From our proneness to reason analogically, we are apt to 
transfer the same mode of thinking to the mind—to conceive 
that it consists of various powers, as the body is composed ot 
different members, each of which is distinct from the others, 
and also from the mind itself— capable of existing apart from 
the rest, or of perishing while its associate powers remain in 
being, and in vigor. 

A little reflection will, however, convince us that some at 
least of these notions are utterly inconsistent with our concep- 
tions of mind as a simple indivisible essence. It will remind 
us, that, as the mind does not, like the, body, consist of parts, 
no analogy borrowed from the latter will apply here ; that the 
powers of perceiving, feeling, judging, &c. are not to be con- 
sidered as separate portions or members, so to speak, of the 
mind ; but as capabilities, imparted to it by its Creator, of ex- 
isting in various states of thought and feeling, which consti- 
tute the whole phenomena of the mind, and, as far at least as 
the physiology of the mind is concerned, the exclusive subject 
of inquiry and examination. 

With reference then to these phenomena, let it be observed, 
that they are not to be regarded as constituting something dis- 
tinct from the mind, but as being the mind itself in different 
states. This is one of the fundamental principles of Dr. 
Brown's philosophy ; and its importance is so great as to ren- 
der it deserving of a little fuller elucidation. I shall view it, 
first, in its bearing upon the actual phenomena of the mind ; 
and, secondly, in reference to what we denominate its powers 
and susceptibilities. 

According to the doctrine of the Peripatetics, ideas are not 
merely distinct from the mind, but actual images of objects 
which are contemplated by the mind, as it was supposed, in 
perception, and which rise again to view in every act of me- 
mory. This doctrine is now, however, universally discarded ; 
and, indeed, so manifest is its absurdity, that it is impossible 
to avoid expressing astonishment at the length of time during 
which it held dominion over the public mind. In many in- 
stances the existence of such an image is altogether incredi- 

5 



46 POWERS AND SUSCEPTIBILITIES 

ble, or rather impossible. " That there should be an image of 
an individual object in the mind, as of a rose, is conceivable. 
But what image can there be of honesty, of justice, or of any 
other similar quality ?" It is now, accordingly, generally ad- 
mitted, that an idea is nothing more than the conception which 
the mind forms of an object. It is not, however, to be doubt- 
ed that this word, together with the similar terms, notion, 
thought, &c. is still apt to be regarded as denoting something 
in the mind, distinct from the mind itself, and capable of being 
actually separated from it. We talk of a notion, a thought, 
or an idea, as though it constituted a real independent entity, 
like gold, silver, &c. ** There seems," says Mr. Welsh, " to- 
be a natural tendency in all men, when they first reflect upon 
the subjects of their consciousness, to conceive that ideas and 
feelings are something different from the mind itself. We as- 
cribe to them a real existence, shadowy and undefined it may 
be, but still real, as if they were separate entities over which 
we exercise a mysterious power, calling them into existence, 
and allowing them again to fade into nothing at our will."* 
All this is delusion. There is no notion or idea in the mind, 
and distinguishable from it. A thought, in the concrete state, 
i. e. " a particular thought, as it really exists in the mind of an 
individual, is the mind thinking " — an idea is the mind conceiv- 
ing. " A cause of thought we can easily conceive separate 
from the mind, in an outward object," — " or an object we can 
conceive separate from the mind about which our thoughts are 
employed; but what notion is it possible to form of a thought 
distinguishable from the mind thinking,"! or of an idea from 
the mind conceiving ? 

Our notions, thoughts, and ideas, then, are nothing more 
than the mind itself in different states : and a similar assertion 
may be made with reference to our endlessly diversified sen- 
sations. They are not distinct and separable from the mind. 
There is not the mind and its sensation, as we say there is the 
body and the limbs ; for the sensation is the mind affected in 
a particular way. When the leg or arm has received some in- 
jury, we do not say there is the arm and its wound ; for the 
wound is, not indeed the arm itself, but the arm in a particular 
state. In like manner a sensation is not actually the mind itself, 
as Mr. Welsh properly observes ; for we employ the word 
Mind to signify the unknown substance of which the qualities 
only can be ascertained, — but the mind, i. e. this unknown sub- 
stance, in a particular state. 

* P. 215. t P. 221. 



OF THE MIND EXPLAINED." 47 

The same thing may be said of the varied affections of the 
mind. We are not to conceive of the emotions of joy, sorrow, 
hope, fear, &c. which there is reason to think many do, as so 
many feelings laid up, so to speak, in the mind — feelings dis- 
tinct from the mind, and capable of being developed by appropri- 
ate circumstances. They are the mind itself in different states, 
t)r affected in various ways. They only exist, accordingly, 
when they are felt. There is no joy or sorrow, &c. in the mind 
■when these emotions are not experienced. Doubtless the mind 
possesses a capability of being made to exist in those particu- 
lar states to which we give the name of hope, fear, &c. ; and, 
for ordinary purposes, it may be sufficiently accurate to call 
this capability the affection of hope, fear, &c. But, in reality, 
hope, or fear, is the mind affected in a particular manner, or 
existing in a particular state. The capability of experiencing 
these emotions^ stands in a similar relation to the emotions 
themselves, with the power of perceiving extension, solidity, 
&c. to the perception of extension, &c. itself. 

It is not difficult to show the application of these principles to 
what are called the powers and susceptibilities of the mind. They 
are not to be regarded as distinct from the mind itself, or as se- 
parate from each other. Of this the great Mr. Locke was well 
aware. ** These powers of the mind, viz. of perceiving and pre- 
ferring," says this writer, " are usually called by another name, 
and the ordinary way of speaking is, that the understanding 
and the will are two faculties of the mind ; a word proper 
enough, if it be used, as all words should be, so as not to breed 
any confusion in men's thoughts by being supposed, as I sus- 
pect it has been, to stand for some real beings in the soul, that 
performed those actions of understanding and volition. For 
when we say the will is the commanding or superior faculty of 
the soul ; that k is., or is not free ; that it determines the infe- 
rior faculties ; that it follows the dictates of the understanding, 
&c. ; though these, and the like expressions, by those that 
carefully attend to their own ideas, and conduct their thoughts 
more by the evidence of things than the sound of words, may 
be understood in a clear and distinct sense ; yet I suspect, I 
say, that this way of speaking of faculties has misled many into 
a confused notion of so many distinct agents in us, which had 
their several provinces and authorities^ and did command, obey, 
and perform several actions, as so many distinct beings ; which 
has been no small occasion of wrangling, obscurity, and un- 
certainty, in questions relating to them."* 
* Book ii. chap. xxi. § 6. 



48 POWERS AND SUSCEPTIBILITIES 

The faculties of the mind, or its powers and susceptibilities, 
let it then be remembered, are not to be distinguished from the 
mind itself. The words denote the constitution it has received 
from its Creator, by which it is capable of existing in all those 
different states which form the consciousness of life. Our ac- 
tual feelings depend upon the nature of the mind, and the na- 
ture of the objects by which the mind is affected. Were a 
change in either to take place, the phenomena, which it is the 
business of intellectual science to contemplate, would undergo 
a corresponding change. " It is the object, indeed, which af- 
fects the mind when sentient; but it is the original susceptibi- 
lity of the mind itself, which determines and modifies the par- 
ticular affection, very nearly, if I may illustrate what is mental 
by so coarse an image, as the impression which a seal leaves 
on melted wax depends, not on the qualities of the wax alone, 
or of the seal alone, but on the softness of the one, and the 
form of the other."* 

Thus the powers and susceptibilities of the mind are not to 
be identified with the actual phenomena of mind, though they 
constitute nothing different from the mind itself. They are, in 
fact, the nature of the mind ; — its capabilities of feeling, think- 
ing, conceiving, judging, &c. ; an actual feeling, or concep- 
tion, or judgment, as it exists in the mind, is the mind itself in 
a particular state. 

There is not a very broad line of distinction between the 
powers and the susceptibilities of the mind. Both of the terms 
denote a certain constitution of the mind. The latter exhibits 
what Locke called its passive powers, that is, its capacities of 
undergoing certain changes ; the latter intimates its faculties 
of producing certain changes. The odor of a rose comes in 
contact with the olfactory nerves, and a certain mental feeling, 
or a sensation, is the result ; i. e. a change is produced in the 
state of the mind ; this change indicates the existence of a 
mental susceptibility. We will to move our limbs ; the limbs 
are instantly obedient to volition ; and the change in the state 
of the body, produced by volition, indicates a mental power. 

To the above distinction, though correct, no great practical 
importance is to be attached. It is of far greater consequence 
to remember, that neither the term susceptibility nor power de- 
notes any thing distinct from the constitution of the mind. The 
susceptibility to which we have referred, is a certain constitu- 
tion of mind, in consequence of which, a change in its state 

* Brown, vol. i. p. 22, 



OF THE MIND EXPLAINED. 49 

takes place on the approach of a certain material object. The 
power to which we have referred, is also a certain constitution 
of mind, in consequence of which a change takes place in the 
state of the body, subsequent to a certain feeling of mind. 
What is a sensation but a certain state of mind ? What is a 
volition but a certain state of mind ? They both imply a certain 
constitution of mind by which it is rendered capable of existing 
in these different states ; but whether we give to this constitu- 
tion the name of susceptibility, or power, or capacity, is of no 
material importance. When the state of mind of which we at 
any time speak, is regarded as a consequent of something else, 
it may be convenient to say that it indicates a corresponding 
mental susceptibility ; and when it is regarded as the antece- 
dent of something else, that it proves the existence of a men- 
tal power. But the susceptibility and the power are not differ- 
ent from the mind. Both may be included under the general 
term capacity of existing in certain states, — a capacity of 
which we can know nothing, but by the states of thought and 
feeling which grow out of it, and which is to be ascribed to the 
sovereign pleasure of the Creator of the mind. 

Nor are the states of mind which are thus indicative of what 
are called mental powers, and mental susceptibilities, so radi- 
cally different as it is sometimes imagined. The mind has 
the power of volition ; it has also the susceptibility of sensa- 
tion. Now, between an actual sensation, and an actual volition, 
what essential distinction of the kind, that is, which the words 
susceptibility and power might lead us to expect, is found to 
exist 7 They are both states of mind. They are both caused by 
something else ; for volition can no more exist without a cause 
than sensation. Each of them may be the cause of something 
else. The sensation of hunger may produce the desire of food ; 
a volition may produce a bodily movement. Why then should 
the latter be said to indicate a mental power, and the former a 
mental susceptibility ? In fact there is not a single state of 
mind which may not sustain the double relation of cause and 
effect — which may not be itself a change from a former state, 
and lead to a change. So that, according to the foregoing dis- 
tinction between susceptibilities and powers, all our mental fa- 
culties may be regarded as constituting both ; and if an attempt 
be made to establish any other distinction, it will, we think, be 
found to prove abortive. 

In the subsequent part of this volume, the term susceptibili- 
ties or powers, will be used to denote the nature, or capacity, 
or constitution of the mind, bv which it is capable of existing in 

5* 



50 POWERS AND SUSCEPTIBILITIES 

those varied states of thought and feeling which form the con- 
sciousness of life. 

The whole of the preceding statement may be illustrated by 
a reference to the properties or qualities of physical substances. 
These properties cannot be separated from the body in which 
they inhere. There is no such thing in nature, as a quality 
apart from its substance. The truth of this will further appear 
from another statement which we now proceed to make, viz. 
that these properties constitute nothing distinct from the sub- 
stance itself. They are the substance formed capable of under- 
going and of originating certain changes 5 its capacities of pro- 
ducing changes, we term its powers ; its capacities of under- 
going changes, we denominate its susceptibilities. 

It has been too common to conceive of the powers, proper- 
ties, or qualities of a substance, as something superadded to it, 
and capable of being withdrawn from it. This is a great mis- 
take. Dr. Brown has shown, with resistless force of argument, 
that *' the substances which exist in nature, are every thing that 
has a real existence in nature." The statement, however, of 
this writer, and of his able and excellent biographer, the Rev. 
D. Welsh, that the powers, or qualities of a substance, are the 
substance itself considered in relation to certain changes which 
it undergoes or occasions, seems to me liable to exception. It 
is in harmony with their doctrine with regard to causation, and 
must stand or fall with it. If the powers, &c. of bodies, are 
those bodies considered in different relations, it follows that if 
we, who observe the relations, did not exist, the powers of 
which we speak would not exist. Besides, as it is not the di- 
rect energy of the Deity, which, according to their system, 
binds the cause and the effect together, it leaves the impor- 
tant fact, how it comes to pass that the particular relations 
which we actually witness exist, and not apposite relations, 
altogether unaccounted for. I prefer, therefore, the statement 
given above, viz. that the powers or qualities of a substance 
are not indeed to be regarded as any thing different from the 
substance, but the particular nature, or constitution, which the 
Creator has given to it, in consequence of which it is capable 
of existing in the various relations it sustains to other bodies. 
A similar exception must, we think, be taken against the state- 
ment, that the powers or susceptibilities of the mind are the 
mind itself, considered in relation to certain changes which it 
occasions, or undergoes. They rather denote, as it has been 
already stated, that particular nature or constitution which has 
been given to it by its Creator ; in consequence of which it is 



OF THE MIND EXPLAINED. 51 

capable of existing in these various relations. Power, or sus- 
ceptibility, in short, denotes not the relations themselves, nor 
the consideration of them, but a physical capacity of sustaining 
them. 

Before we leave this subject, there is one source of miscon- 
ception, against which the reader should be especially cautioned. 
The states of thought and feeling, in which the mind is capable 
of existing, which constitute the phenomena of the mind — all, 
indeed, which can be known of the mind— are incalculable in 
point of number. Now as each state of mind supposes a pre- 
vious susceptibility of existing in that state, we are in danger 
of imagining that there must be a number of separate suscepti- 
bilities m the mind, corresponding with its individual states. 
The error involved in this conception will be perceived, when 
the previous statements with reference to the meaning of the 
term susceptibility are recollected. A mental susceptibility is 
nothing different from the mind itself. It is the simple indivi- 
sible essence, formed capable of producing or undergoing cer- 
tain changes, in which the whole phenomena of mind consist. 
The mind is not made up of parts ; it cannot therefore consist 
of a number of separate susceptibilities. But though simple 
and'indivisible, it maybe capable of producing and undergoing 
changes which are not in their nature less different from each 
other than are the circumstances in which they arise. This is 
finely illustrated by Mr. Welsh, in regard to the properties of 
physical substances. An object possesses color and gravity, 
i. e. it excites a certain feeling in our mind to which we give 
the name of the sensation of color ; and it attracts the earth 
and other substances. Now the question is, are there two dis- 
tinct powers in the object to produce these different effects ? 
In reply, Mr. Welsh says, M Now, without any minute analysis 
of what we mean by color, gravitation, &c. it may be ob- 
served that the color, not being in the object, is merely an ef- 
fect of the object on our minds ; and the approach of the earth 
is not in the object, it is an effect produced on the earth. And, 
as the objects operated upon are essentially different, there is 
no occasion for supposing two different powers for the two dif- 
ferent results. It might be demonstrated, that, if the substance 
were one, and nothing more than one, it would, when placed 
in relation to objects so essentially different as a mass of mat- 
ter and a spiritual substance, produce essentially different ef- 
fects. To suppose then that there must be two powers, when 
one is sufficient to account for all that we see produced, is an 
unwarrantable violation of Newton's simplest axiom. How 



52 ON THE NATURE. 

different is the sensation of heat upon approaching the finger to 
a lighted candle, and the melting of wax when it is placed in a 
similar situation. But no one surely will maintain that heat 
has the power of melting wax, and a different power for excit- 
ing a peculiar sensation — there is nothing but the heat simply 
in relation to two different substances. Why, then, should we 
any more suppose different powers inherent in the gold, or, in- 
deed, in any other simple substance ._?"*j And again, in a pas- 
sage which I trust he will excuse me for thus introducing, " a 
piece of wax is susceptible of a thousand different impressions, 
but there are not a thousand different qualities in the wax ; 
there is the one quality of taking impressions, conceived in re- 
lation to a thousand impressive forms. Thus it is with the 
mind. Millions of figures may be placed before our eyes, one 
after another, and the mind is in a different state upon every 
new figure being presented. But this is surely one simple 
mind, considered in relation to a million objects. So with co- 
lors, sounds, &c." In harmony with previous remarks, I should 
be disposed to make a slight change in the phraseology, or 
little more than in the phraseology, of these admirable passages. 



CHAP. IV. 

THE MANNER IN WHICH OUR KNOWLEDGE OF THE MENTAL 
PHENOMENA IS OBTAINED. 

Of the essence both of Matter and of Mind, we are, as we 
have seen, profoundly ignorant. All that can be known, with 
reference to both, is comprehended in the varying phenomena 
which they exhibit. An important question then occurs here, 
" In what way do we gain our acquaintance with these phe- 
nomena 1 How do the worlds of matter and of mind become 
known to us ? Is it necessary that we should be endowed with 
special and separate powers to obtain that little information, 
with reference to each, to which it is possible for us, in the 
present state, to attain?" 

To the latter question an answer has usually been given in 
the affirmative. Sensation, or perception, it is generally said, 

* Vide Memoirs of Brown, pp. Ill, 112. 



OF CONSCIOUSNESS. 53 

is the link which unites us to the material universe, — that high 
and, in many respects, mysterious power, which reveals to us 
the phenomena of nature, or the world without us ; while con- 
sciousness makes us acquainted with the feelings and change- 
ful appearances of the world within. 

Now, concerning the way in which the phenomena of mat- 
ter became known to us, there is, and can be, no doubt. Ex- 
ternal objects affect our organs of sense, or, as we are accus- 
tomed to say, (though the words convey no distinct meaning, 
being little better than a cloak for ignorance,) make some im- 
pression upon them. This impression upon the organ is in- 
stantly followed by a certain feeling or state of mind, — a feel- 
ing, or state, which necessarily supposes that the mind must 
have been so constituted by its Creator as to be capable of being 
made to exist in that particular state ; or, in other words, that 
a certain power — the power of sensation, or perception has 
been conferred upon it by the Deity. Thus the phenomena of 
matter become known to us, and can only become known to 
us through the medium of a certain physical or bodily confor- 
mation, in union with a certain mental susceptibility or power. 

The same mode of thinking we have been in the habit, as it 
appears to me, of transferring improperly to the phenomena 
of mind. Since the properties of matter can only be discovered 
by means of the power of perception, — to which power the va- 
rious bodies by which we are surrounded, together with their 
various properties, stand in the relation of objects, — we are apt 
to imagine that the phenomena of mind require for their recog- 
nition a peculiar power, to which a definite name must be at- 
tached. But in suffering ourselves to be seduced by this ana- 
logy, we forget that the phenomena of the mind are its varied 
thoughts and feelings ; and that it may not, accordingly, re- 
quire what we call a distinct power of mind to give us the know- 
ledge of our feelings, though a particular faculty is necessary 
to secure to us an acquaintance with bodies which are out of 
the mind, whose existence can, accordingly, only become 
known by some operation upon the mind, or by the production 
of some change in its state, the very production of which ne- 
cessarily supposes, as we have seen, that the mind is pos- 
sessed of a corresponding susceptibility of undergoing that 
change. 

To this supposed power, which has thus for its objects, as it 
is conceived, the phenomena of mind, philosophers have given 
the name of Consciousness. We shall first examine their state- 
ments with regard to its nature — statements in which there are 



54 ON THE NATURE 

some things to commend, though the general doctrine they ad- 
vocate must, it is conceived, be abandoned. 

44 Consciousness," says Dr. Reid, 4 ' is a word used by philo- 
sophers to signify thai immediate knowledge which we have of our 
present thoughts and purposes, and, in general, of all the pre- 
sent operations of the mind."* Within the compass of a few 
lines, he speaks of it as 44 a power by which we have a know- 
ledge of the operations of our own minds." Again, in another 
part of his generally excellent writings, he tells us that 44 Con- 
sciousness is an operation of the understanding of its own 
kind, and cannot be logically defined," 44 The objects of it," 
he adds, 44 are our present pains, our pleasures, our hopes, our 
fears, our desires, our doubts, our thoughts of every kind, &c." 
It is scarcely possible to conceive that the geneial views of 
this writer were very distinct, when he could permit phrase- 
ology so loose and contradictory to escape from his pen. Con- 
sciousness is, first, the immediate knowledge we have of our 
thoughts, &c. : then a power by which we know them ; then, 
again, an operation of the understanding, («. c. according to the 
philosophy of this writer, a power of a power,) which cannot be 
logically defined. It is surely needless to remark, that the first 
and second statements are self-contradictory, and the third con- 
trary to both. If consciousness be knowledge, it cannot be a 
power to know. If it be an operation of the understanding, it 
can, on his system, be neither the one nor the other. 

Passing by this inaccuracy, some of the subsequent state- 
ments of Dr. Reid deserve our attention. He tells us, in sub- 
stance at least, and that very justly, that consciousness has re- 
lation only to things in the mind, such as our thoughts, sensa- 
tions, emotions, &c. — that these are the only proper objects of 
consciousness — that it cannot be said correctly that we are 
conscious of the beings and things that surround us — that they 
are objects of perception, not of consciousness — that it is im- 
proper to say we are conscious of things past, even of past 
feelings, &c. — that they are objects of memory, not conscious- 
ness. Dr. Reid might have added, that though we cannot be 
conscious of any thing out of the mind, we may be said to be 
conscious of the perceptions and emotions they awaken, be- 
cause they are really things in the mind, or the mind in parti- 
cular states of thought and feeling. This power of conscious- 
ness, Dr. Reid affirms to be a different power from that by 
which we perceive external objects ; and a philosopher, he 

* Vol. i. p. 32. 



OF CONSCIOUSNESS. 55 

says, ought carefully to preserve this distinction. Regarding 
consciousness thus as an original power of the mind, distinct 
from all others, by which we gain the knowledge of things in 
the mind, our author proceeds to show why we put confidence 
in its testimony. The mind experiences a sensation : con- 
sciousness assures us that such is the case. " But if I am 
asked to prove that I cannot be deceived by consciousness, I 
can find," he says, " no proof." " I cannot find any antecedent 
truth from which it is deduced, or upon which its evidence may 
depend." He tells us further, that the irresistible conviction 
we have of the operations of our minds, is not the effect of rea- 
soning, but is immediate and intuitive. " The existence, there- 
fore," he adds, " of those passions and operations of our minds, 
of which we are conscious, is a first principle, which nature re- 
quires us to believe upon her authority." 

A simpler view of the nature of consciousness would have 
shown this excellent writer, how completely unnecessary are 
all such statements. They accord with, and are indeed re- 
quired by his system, which regards consciousness as an ori- 
ginal power of the mind, and whose testimony, like that of 
perception, it might be supposed necessary to confirm and es- 
tablish. But if consciousness be not an original power — if 
the consciousness of the moment be nothing more than the 
feeling of the moment — if the consciousness of pain, for in- 
stance, be the sensation itself, it is manifestly absurd to at- 
tempt even to prove that we experience it. All that can be 
desired or said is, that we actually suffer pain. No one, in 
a sound state of mind, will ask for proof that the feeling really 
exists. 

Mr. Stewart agrees in the general doctrine of his predeces- 
sor. " It is," says he, " by the immediate evidence of con- 
sciousness, that we are assured of the present existence of 
our various sensations, of all our affections, passions, hopes, 
fears, thoughts, &c." He states, very justly, that conscious- 
ness is confined to what we call states of mind — that it does 
not inform us of the existence of mind itself; and he adds, 
" it would not be possible to arrive at the knowledge of its 
existence, even supposing us to be created in the full posses- 
sion of all the intellectual capacities which belong to human 
nature, if no impression were ever to be made on an external 
sense." He proceeds to observe, " that the moment in which 
a sensation is produced, we learn two facts at once — the ex- 
istence of the sensation, and our own existence as sentient be- 
ings ; in other words, the very first exercise of consciousness 



56 ON THE NATURE 

necessarily implies a belief, not only of the present existence 
of what is felt, but of the present existence of that which thinks 
and feels, or of that being which I denote, I, and myself. It 
is, however, of the former of these facts only that we are con- 

SC10US ' • r 

\t present we say nothing with reference to the origin of 
the belief of our own existence ; but we would just ask, en 
passant, what is meant by the assertion "that the moment in 
which a sensation is produced, we learn the existence oj the 
sensation ?" Is not this an identical proposition, amounting to 
the statement—" the instant we feel, we feel ?" 

Mr. Stewart is not free from that vagueness of statement, 
of which it was found necessary to complain in the case ot 
Dr Reid In his " Outlines," he enumerates consciousness 
amon* the powers of the mind. And yet, in his formal defi- 
nition^ the term, he says, " the word denotes the immediate 
knowledge which the mind has of its thoughts, &c. He then 
immediately adds, "the belief with which it (consciousness) 
is attended," (*. e. according to his own definition, with which 
our immediate knowledge of our thoughts, &c. is attended,) 
"has been considered as the most irresistible of any, &c. J 
Thus, consciousness is first a power of the mind; then the 
immediate knowledge we have of our thoughts ; and, finally, 
this immediate knowledge of our thoughts is attended with an 
irresistible belief that we have them ! 

Statements thus confused and self-contradictory, proceeding 
from such men as Dr. Reid and Mr. Stewart, go very far to 
induce us to suspect that there must be some radical defect in 
the opinions which have been held on this important subject ; 
and the mistakes of others, who agree with them m their ge- 
neral doctrine, are calculated to strengthen this suspicion. 
Thus it has been said, that " consciousness is awakened by 
two different classes of objects,— that we are conscious of the 
effects produced byexternal objects upon theorgans of sense,— 
and of the mind's attention to them." By the word " effects, 
in the first member of the sentence, the writer meant, not ef- 
fects, upon the organ, as the language would seem to imply, but 
upon -the mind ; for he immediately adds, " these effects are 
sensations." Of the attention of the mind to these sensations, 
we are said to be conscious ; and it is by means of it, (viz. 

* Vide Outlines, pp. 18, 19. Philosophical Essays, Essay I. ehap.i. 
Elements, Vol. ii. p. 52-54. a 
t Outlines, p. 18. 



OF CONSCIOUSNESS. 57 

this attention) that we gain, as it is further said, the knowledge 
of external objects. This latter assertion, however, unless 
understood with great modifications, is untrue. We might at- 
tend for ever to the sensation produced by the fragrance of a 
rose, for instance, without perceiving the rose ; yea, without 
the idea once arising in the mind, that the feeling resulted from 
the [influence of any thing ad extra. We should believe, in- 
deed, that it had a cause ; but we might imagine that the cause 
was in the mind. It is not every sensation that gives us the 
notion of external objects ; and when that notion does arise, 
it springs, by a law of the mind, as we shall afterwards see, 
out of the sensation itself; it is not gained by attention to it, 
nor by any process of reflection upon it. 

It was left for Dr. Brown to give us more correct, and there- 
fore intelligible, views of the nature of consciousness. His 
perspicacious mind could not repose upon the vagueness of 
preceding writers. Indeed, their representations are at direct 
variance with those fundamental parts of his system which have 
come under our review. The old system, built upon a falsely 
admitted analogy between matter and mind, regards individual 
sensations, &c. as standing in the relation of objects, to the 
sentient'mind — as external things stand in the relation of ob- 
jects to the mind in perception. " Now that any particular 
feeling is so radically distinct and different from the sentient 
principle, as to justify us in classifying it in the relation of an 
object to this sentient principle, is obviously inconsistent," 
says the Rev. D. Welsh, "with his doctrine concerning the 
nature of our thoughts, feelings, &c. viz. that they are not dis- 
tinct from the mind, but the mind itself in particular states." 

Accordingly Dr. Brown maintains, that consciousness is 
not a distinct power of the mind — that the word consciousness 
is a general term expressive of the whole variety of our feel- 
ings ; so that the phrase, the whole consciousness of life, de- 
notes all the feelings we experience during life ; — he states 
that to be conscious of a sensation, and to have that sensation, 
is the same thing. Referring to Dr. Reid's statements, he 
says, " To me, I must confess that this attempt to double, as 
it were, our various feelings, by making them not to constitute 
our consciousness, but to be the objects of it, as of a distinct 
intellectual power, is not a faithful statement of the phenome- 
na of the mind, but is founded partly on a confusion of thought, 
and still more on a confusion of language. Sensation is not 
the object of consciousness, different from itself, but a particu- 

6 



58 THE NATURE OF CONSCIOUSNESS. 

lar sensation is the consciousness of the moment ; as a par- 
ticular hope, or fear, or grief, or resentment, or simple remem- 
brance, may be the actual consciousness of the next moment." 
" In the mind," he tells us, " that there is nothing but a certain 
series of feelings, or of transient successive states ; — that the 
consciousness we have of them, is nothing more than the 
thoughts and sensations themselves, which could not be 
thoughts and sensations if they were not felt ;" — " that the 
evidence of consciousness is nothing more than the evidence 
implied in the mere existence of our sensations, thoughts, de- 
sires, — which it is utterly impossible for us to believe to be, 
and not to be ; or, in other words, impossible for us to feel, and 
not io feel, at the same moment."* 

With these statements of Dr. Brown I most fully concur. 
Little more, indeed, seems to me necessary to secure their 
general reception, than to lay them before the view of the pub- 
lic. They are accompanied by no difficulties to prevent their 
general adoption ; while, amongst many others, the two fol- 
lowing may be mentioned as presenting formidable objections 
against the doctrine of Dr. Reid and Mr. Stewart. 

First, it supposes the mind not merely to exist in two dif- 
ferent states, but in two different states with reference to the 
same thing, at the same time, which is manifestly absurd. Take 
the case, for instance, of the sensation produced by the odor 
of a rose. Here the sensation itself, according to Dr. Reid's 
doctrine, is one thing- — the consciousness of it another. The 
sensation is the feeling, or state of mind, which results from 
the contact of the odoriferous particles and the organ of sense ; 
the consciousness is the immediate knowledge we have that it 
exists ; so that the mind is in two different states — in a state 
of feeling, and in a state of consciousness of the feeling, at the 
same time, and with reference to the same object ; which is 
equivalent with saying, that we remember a sensation, and 
have the sensation at the same time. 

Secondly, Dr. Reid's doctrine that consciousness is a dis- 
tinct power of the mind, by which we gain the knowledge of 
its present thoughts, sensations, &c. necessarily supposes that, 
without this faculty of consciousness, an impenetrable veil 
would hang over all the mental phenomena, — that we might 
and, indeed, must remain in a state of utter and hopeless igno- 
rance of our infinitely diversified thoughts and feelings ; in 
other words, that we should think without thinking, and feel 

* Vide p. 244-257. 



ORIGIN OF THE NOTION OF SELF. 59 



without feeling ; — a 1 statement which involves in it a direct 
contradiction ; for a sensation which is not felt, is not a sen- 
sation at all. 



CHAP. V. 

-"HE ORIGIN OF THE NOTION OF SELF, AND THE IDENTITY OF THE 
THINKING PRINCIPLE AMIDST ALL THE VARIETY OF ITS CON- 
SCIOUSNESS. 

The notion of self is the conception of the existence of 
mind, as the permanent subject of the ever-shifting and end- 
lessly diversified phenomena, of which, in popular language, 
we are said to be conscious. How then does this notion 
arise ? The question is not unattended with difficulty ; and, as 
it might have been expected, the answer returned by different 
philosophers is by no means the same. If the existence of 
Mind, or of the being denoted by the words I, and myself, 
were a subject of consciousness, it would be manifestly as 
absurd to put the inquiry, "How do we attain the knowledge 
and belief of our existence V as to ask in what manner we 
know that we experience a certain sensation. But this is not 
the case. " We are conscious," says Mr. Stewart, " of our 
sensations, thoughts, desires, &c. but we are not conscious of 
the existence of mind itself." There is room, accordingly, for 
the question, " In what manner does the notion of self, or of 
the existence of mind, as distinct from our sensations, (in the 
sense in which it can alone be said to be distinct,) arise V 9 

The manner in which Mr. Stewart replies to the question, 
has been laid before the reader. He contends that, by an 
original law of the mind, the very first sensation gives us the 
notion of our own existence, as sentient beings; or, that the 
first exercise of consciousness implies a belief of the present 
existence, i. e. of the existence of the being denoted by the 
Words I, and myself. 

This would seem also to have been the opinion of Dr. Reid, 
for, after declaring that every man believes himself to be some- 
thing different from his ideas and impressions ; something 
which continues the same identical self, when all his ideas 
and impressions are changed, he tells us, — when proceeding 



60 ON THE ORIGIN OF 

to treat of the origin of the notion conveyed by the word We, 
in such phrases as, " We are conscious of pain," — " that our 
sensations and thoughts give us the notion of a mind, and of a 
faculty to think and feel. The faculty of smelling," he adds, 
" is something very different from the actual sensation of smell- 
ing ; for the faculty may remain when we have no sensation. 
And the mind is no less different from the faculty ; for it con- 
tinues the same individual being when that faculty is lost. Yet 
this sensation suggests co us both a faculty and a mind ; and 
not only suggests a notion of them," he adds, " but creates a 
belief of their existence."* 

The doctrine of Dr. Brown is essentially different. The 
notion of self, or of mind, being the conception of something 
which remains unchanged, amidst changing phenomena, can- 
not, he maintains, arise out of any one sensation, or state of 
mind. Conceive of a sentient being, brought into existence, 
and experiencing, for the first time, a simple sensation ; the 
whole consciousness of that being would be the sensation he 
felt. " There would be," says he, " in this first momentary 
state, no separation of self, and the sensation ; no little pro- 
position formed in the mind, / feel, or J am conscious of 
a feeling, (that cannot be the case till the notion of I or my- 
self has arisen ;) but the feeling and the sentient /will, for the 
moment, be the same." He afterwards states, that if our feel- 
ings merely succeeded each other, in the same manner as the 
moving bodies of a long procession are reflected from a mir- 
ror, without any vestige of them as past, or, consequently, any 
remembrance of their successions, we should be as incapable 
of forming a notion of the sentient substance mind, abstracted 
from the momentary sensation, as the mirror itself; though we 
should, indeed, differ from the mirror, in having what mind 
only can have, the sensations themselves, thus rapidly existing 
and perishing. "| 

The notion of self, according to the statements of this wri- 
ter, can only arise on the recollection of some past feeling ; 
so that it must ultimately be traced to memory, the revealer to 
us of our past feelings. A sensation of acute pain is expe- 
rienced ; it is succeeded by a vivid emotion of pleasure, and 
the remembrance of the former co-exists with the latter. The 
sensation and the emotion are felt by us to be radically differ- 
ent ; yet we conceive of them, and cannot but conceive of them, 
as feelings of the same being ; i. e. there arises the notion of 

* Inquiry into the Human Mind, 5th edit. pp. 61, 62. 
t Pp: 293, 294. 



TtfE NOTION OF SELF. £1 

something which is permanent, amidst the successions of feel- 
ings, and which constitutes the subject of these feelings ; or, 
in other words, there arises the notion of I, or myself. It is 
not, however, merely from a recollection of the particular kind 
specified, that this notion arises. It may exist, and we are 
disposed to think must so exist, with every instance of remem- 
brance. * We remember," says Dr. Brown ; and in that re- 
membrance is involved the belief, the source of which we seek. 
It is not merely a past feeling that arises to us, in what is com- 
monly termed memory, but a feeling that is recognized by us 
as ours, in that past time of which we think ; a feeling, there- 
fore, of that mind which now remembers what it before saw, 
perhaps, or heard, or enjoyed, or suffered.* 

On the whole, I am disposed to agree with Dr. Brown, in 
his account of the actual origin of our notion of self. I can- 
not go with him, however, in the assertion that this notion can- 
not arise out of any one state of mind ; and that the doctrine 
of Mr. Stewart must accordingly be rejected, as affirming 
what is in itself impossible. I know of no reason why God 
should not have so formed the human mind, as that the notion 
of self should arise in the manner stated by Mr. Stewart; whe- 
ther he has actually done so is another question, and to that I 
should reply in the negative. Dr. Brown has been led to the 
assertion, that memory is essential to the conception in ques- 
tion, by confounding two things which appear to me distinct ; 
viz. the notion of self, and the notion of identity. The former 
would seem to me to be the conception of mind, as the perma- 
nent subject of our thoughts, feelings, &c; the latter, the con- 
ception of this mind, as unchanging. The two statements 
cannot be affirmed to be identical, but on the false assumption, 
that substances are incapable of change. We might possess a 
mind, and yet that mind, though continuing to be the subject 
of our sensations, thoughts, &c. might be liable to suffer 
change, and actually undergo it. Dr. Brown identifies these 
conceptions. " The knowledge of our mind as a substance, 
and the belief of our identity, during our successive feelings, 
may be considered," he says, " as the same notion, expressed 
in different words." If this were eorrect, his statements, with 
regard to the necessity of memory, would also be correct. For 
though I can conceive of the notion of self, i. e. the notion of 
mind, as the subject of sensation, arising out of a single sensa- 
tion, in the manner stated by Mr. Stewart, I cannot conceive 

* Vol. i. p. 294. 
6" 



62 ORIGIN OF THE NOTION OF SELF. 

that the notion of the unchangeableness, i. e. the identity of this 
subject, could be originated in this manner. To the conception 
of the identity, i. e. as I regard it, the unchangeableness of the 
mind, it seems obviously necessary that a change of state 
should be experienced. 

We have, as yet, only described the circumstances in which 
the notion and belief of self arises. There remains the import- 
ant inquiry, "how it comes to pass, that the recollection of one 
feeling, and the experience of another, should originate the no- 
tion 1" Mr. Stewart says, it is by a law of the mind. Mr. 
Welsh tells us, that " it flows from a principle of intuition, of 
which no further account can be given, than that it forms a part 
of our constitution, and operates universally, immediately and 
irresistibly, as often as we think of the past and the pre- 
sent." Dr. Brown adds, " that it is not the result of any series 
of propositions, but arises immediately, in certain circum- 
stances," i. e. in the circumstances which have been described, 
" from a principle of thought, as essential to the very nature of 
the mind, as its powers of perception or memory, or as the 
power of reasoning itself, on the essential validity of which, 
and, consequently, on the intuitive belief of some first truth on 
which it is founded, every objection to the force of these very 
truths themselves must ultimately rest."* 

In fact, all that can be said on this subject is, that the mind 
has been so constituted by its Creator, that the notion of self, 
in the circumstances described by Dr. Brown, arises necessa- 
rily. We may regard this as an instinctive belief, and we are 
apt to consider it peculiarly inexplicable ; yet it might not, per- 
haps, be difficult to show that it does not differ essentially from 
every other case of belief ; and, at any rate, it is not more mys- 
terious than thephaenomena of sensation, which are not thought 
by some to involve any difficulty. An impression is made upon 
an organ of sense — it is followed by a certain feeling or state 
of mind : now, what can be said in this case, any more than in 
the other, but that God has so formed the mind, that, in certain 
circumstances, the sensation alluded to will be invariably ex- 
perienced ?" 

After the notion of self has arisen, the phrase, " I am con- 
scious of a certain sensation," may be supposed to denote more 
than the mere existence of the sensation. In that case, it means 
that the permanent being, denoted by the words I and myself, 
and which is capable of existing in almost infinitely diversified 

* Vol. i. pp. 281,282. 



ANALYSIS OF THE MENTAL PHiENOMENA. 63 

states of feeling, is, at this moment, the subject of the particu- 
lar state or sensation specified. Still the consciousness of the 
moment is nothing different from the feeling of the moment ; 
the J merely denotes the mind as remaining, while all its feel- 
ings are evanescent. 



CHAP. VI. 

ANALYSIS AND ARRANGEMENT OF THE MENTAL 

PHENOMENA. 

The susceptibilities or powers of the mind are, as we have 
seen, the mind itself, formed capable of existing in various 
states of thought and feeling. These susceptibilities can only 
be ascertained by actual observation, (as is the case with re- 
gard to the properties of physical substances) — by a. careful 
examination of the actual sensations, thoughts, emotions, &c. 
of which we ourselves are conscious, or of whose existence in 
the minds of others, we have indubitable proof. These infinite- 
ly diversified states of mind, constituting the whole of the men- 
tal phenomena, are the sole objects of regard, in this part at 
least, of intellectual science. They are to the mental philoso- 
pher, what the various substances in the material universe are 
to the inquirer in natural science. They present themselves, 
also, for examination, in an analogous state of complexity and 
disarrangement ; and they require, like them, to be reduced to 
their elementary parts, and arranged in classes, on principles 
both obvious and unexceptionable. 

To this difficult and important work we now proceed. I have 
avoided the common phraseology, viz. division of the powers 
of the mind, because, though 1 admit there is an obvious dis- 
tinction between the susceptibilities and powers of the mind, 
and the actual jihcenomena of the mind, — i. e. its varied states 
of thought and feeling, — it is not less manifest, as we have in- 
timated, that the only method of classifying these powers, &c. 
is to classify the prraenomena. The process to be instituted 
has a direct reference to the actual states of mind. These are 
to be analyzed, and arranged in classes, as referable to differ- 
ent corresponding susceptibilities, or powers ; so that, in fact, 
a classification of the mental phenomena, is a classification of 
the mental susceptibilities, &c. 



64 ANALYSIS AND ARRANGEMENT 

In entering upon this subject, it should not be forgotten that 
the phenomena, concerning which we now inquire, are not 
only complex in their nature, in the sense in which this can be 
affirmed of any of the states of a simple indivisible essence, 
but incalculable in point of number. And since every state of 
mind indicates a corresponding susceptibility, we may adopt 
the statement of Dr. Brown, that ** the susceptibilities of the 
mind, by which, in different circumstances, it may exist in these 
different states, are certainly as truly infinite as the space which 
surrounds us, or as that eternity which in its progress measures 
the successions of our feelings, and all the other changes in 
the universe." In consequence of that generalizing process, to 
which the phenomena of mind have been subjected, we are, 
indeed, exceedingly apt to conceive of those which we have 
arranged in the same class, as if the individuals of which it 
consists, had no distinctive characters ; yet it ought never to 
be forgotten that all our thoughts and sensations, &c. how 
minute soever may be the shades of difference which exist 
amongst them, constitute so many distinct and separate states, 
©r affections of mind. There are no classes of sensations and 
thoughts in the mind, — nothing is~to be found there but indi- 
vidual thoughts and sensations, as every object in the material 
world is an individual object. We cannot alter the nature or 
condition of the phenomena themselves ; but, possessing the 
faculty of perceiving resemblances, we can, after reducing 
those which are complex to the utmost degree of simplicity, 
arrange and group our individual thoughts and sensations. 
We can thus accomplish (in effect) what has been done with 
so much benefit in natural science, a very considerable part of 
which consists in classification. What is Natural History but 
a science of arrangement ? What is Chemistry but a science 
of analysis and arrangement ? — sciences which have their foun- 
dation in the constitution of the mind ; to which it is as impos- 
sible to avoid comparing things together, and observing their 
agreement, or the contrary, as to remain ignorant of the form 
and color, &c. of surrounding objects, when we have a dis- 
tinct vision of them. 

The science of Mental Philosophy, then, in as far at least 
as it relates to the classification of the mental phenomena, is 
built upon one of its own powers — that power by which we 
discover resemblance, or relation in general. Two or more 
objects meet our view, and we not only perceive their individ- 
ual properties, but become immediately sensible of their re- 
semblance to each other, in a variety of respects. It is possi- 



OP THE MENTAL PHENOMENA. 65 

ble to conceive that the human mind might have been so con- 
stituted as not to be capable of recognizing this resemblance. 
In this case all science (if indeed any thing worthy of the name 
of science could have existed) must have assumed a character 
differing essentially from that which it bears at present — every 
thing like arrangement being entirely out of the question. 
Endowed, however, with this noble power, the resemblances, 
and relations in general, which it discovers to us, constitute so 
many directors in classification, by the practical guidance of 
which, assemblages of objects blended together apparently in 
the most hopeless confusion, are easily made to separate, and 
assume the utmost degree of order and regularity. Referring 
to this admirable power, and its influence in the classification 
of the mental phenomena, Dr. Brown says, " It begins by 
converting thousands, and more than thousands, into one, and 
reducing, in the same manner, the numbers thus formed, 
arrives at last at the few distinctive characters of those great 
comprehensive tribes, on which it ceases to operate, because 
there is nothing left to oppress the memory, or the under- 
standing."* 

Still it must be carefully borne in mind, that " classification 
has reference only to our mode of considering objects." It 
effects no alteration (as we have already said) in the phenom- 
ena of mind themselves. It places those together in our con- 
ceptions, which are felt to resemble each other. These we 
regard as distinct classes of affections, by an enumeration of 
which we define the mind. "It is that, we say, which per- 
ceives, remembers, compares, grieves, rejoices, loves, hates, 
&c." The terms, however, it must not be forgotten, are mere 
inventions of our own, and each of them " comprehends a 
variety of feelings, that are as truly different from each other, 
as the classes themselves are different." The process of 
classification may be conducted on different principles, and 
carried to a greater length by some, than by others ; but those 
states of mind in which even no general circumstances of 
agreement can be discovered, must be arranged in different 
classes ; and to these ultimate divisions, if we may so call 
them, or rather to the constitution of mind which they indicate, 
we give the name of Powers, or Susceptibilities of the mind. 

It has been just stated that the process of classification may 
be conducted on different principles. This circumstance re- 
sults from the variety of relations which objects bear to each 

* Vol. i. p. 353. 



t>6 ANALYSIS AND ARRANGEMENT. 

other; relations which strike various minds differently, in 
consequence of which they are led to adopt even opposite 
modes of arrangement. And it is an important remark of Dr. 
Brown, that the classification which actually approaches near- 
est to perfection, may not be that which seems, at first sight, 
most obvious ; and he very admirably illustrates this observa- 
tion, in its application to the phenomena of the mind, by the 
obvious principle of arrangement which would seem to be sup- 
plied by the three-fold natural division of our sensations, into 
those which are .agreeable, painful, and indifferent. To a 
common observer this might appear a division as unexception- 
able as it is obvious : it is far, however, from being such in 
reality. " For to take the pleasures and pains of sense," says 
the Doctor, " for instance ; to what intelligible division could 
we reduce those which are not merely fugitive in themselves, 
but vary, from pain to pleasure, and from pleasure to pain, 
with a change of their external objects so slight often, as to be 
scarcely appreciable, and in many cases even when the exter- 
nal objects have continued exactly the same ? How small 
and how variable a boundary separates the warmth that is pleas- 
ing from the heat which pains 1 A certain quantity of light is 
grateful to the eye ; — increase it, it becomes not indifferent — 
though that would be a less change. — but absolutely painful : 
and if the eye be inflamed, even this small quantity of light, 
which was agreeable before, and which seemed, therefore, to 
admit of being very safely classed among the sources of plea- 
sure, is now converted into a source of agony. Since it is 
impossible, therefore, to fix the limits of pain and pleasure ; 
and every affection, or state of mind, agreeable, disagreeable, 
or indifferent, may, by a very trifling change of circumstances, 
be converted into an opposite state ; it is evident that any 
classification, founded on this vague and transient distinction, 
must perplex and mislead us in our attempts to systematize 
the almost infinite diversities of thought and feeling, rather 
than give us any aid in the arrangement."* 

Bearing some of the preceding remarks in memory, we shall 
not be surprised that different classifications of the mental 
phenomena have been suggested. Dr. Reid follows the mode 
which was regarded by him, at that time, as the most common ; 
and traces all the mental phaenomena to the powers of the un- 
derstanding and the will. ** Under the will," he adds, " we 
comprehend our active powers, and all that lead to action, or 

* Vol. i. pp 356-7. 



OF THE MENTAL PHENOMENA. 67 

influence the mind to act ; such as appetites, passions, affec- 
tions, &c. The understanding comprehends our contemplative 
powers ; by which we perceive objects ; by which we conceive 
or remember them ; by which we analyze or compound 
them ; and by which we judge and reason concerning them."* 
He afterwards enumerates the following as constituting the 
only ones, which he thinks it necessary to explain: 

1. The powers we have by means of our external senses, 

2. Memory. 

3. Conception. 

4. The powers of resolving and analyzing complex objects, 
and compounding those that are more simple. 

5. Judging. 

6. Reasoning. 

7. Taste. 

8. Moral Perception. 

9. Consciousness. 

The foregoing enumeration, were it objectionable on no 
other grounds, appears defective in point of precision. What 
is meant, for instance, by the powers we have by means of our 
external senses ? The phraseology is certainly \ery exception- 
able. A mental power, in the sense in which the words have 
been explained, and in which they were used by Dr. Reid, may- 
be dependent for its development upon an organ of sense ; 
but the power resides in the mind ; or rather it is the mind,— 
it is the constitution which its Creator has given to it. It is not 
received by means of the senses ; and since the dissolution of 
the material part of our frame is not necessarily connected 
with the extinction of the mind, (unless, indeed, the doctrines 
of the Materialists and the Phrenologists should prove to be 
true,) it might remain after the body has crumbled into dust. 

Mr. Stewart follows the division of Dr. Reid, varying his 
phraseology, and adding a third class : — of these, the 

1st, Comprehends the intellectual powers ; the 

2d, The active and moral powers ; and the 

3d, Those which belong to man as the member of a politi- 
cal body. 

It would seem as if Dr. Reid himself was not satisfied with 
that division of the powers of the mind, to which reference has 
just been made ; though forgetting, partly at least, that the great 
business of the mental philosopher is to analyze and classify, 
he did not deem it necessary even to think of replacing it by 

* Vol. i. p. 95. 



68 ANALYSIS AND ARRANGEMENT 

another. He says, " it may be of use in order to a more me- 
thodical procedure ;" — but cold approbation to bestow upon a 
division of such antiquity, and adopted also by himself! * 

To the perfection of any arrangement of the mental pheno- 
mena, it is necessary that there be a strongly marked line of 
demarcation between the respective classes under which they 
are arranged ; and that all the phenomena be fairly included 
under one or another of them. 

When we apply these rules to the division of the powers of the 
mind, followed by Dr. Reid, we find that both are transgressed. 
There is no broad line of distinction, he himself being judge, 
between the powers of the understanding and those of the will. 
Re expressly guards us, indeed, against supposing that in those 
operations which are ascribed to the understanding, there is no 
exertion of will or activity ; or that the understanding is not 
employed in the operations ascribed to the will. He tells us, 
that, so far is this from being the case, there is no operation of 
the understanding wherein the mind is not active in some de- 
gree, and no act of will which is not accompanied with some 
act of understanding.* 

Why then, it may be asked, is not the old distinction between 
the powers of the understanding and those of the will aban- 
doned, as a distinction without a difference ? The fact is, that 
Dr. Reid is less self-inconsistent here, than his own words 
would seem to imply. Though the understanding is involved, in 
his opinion, in an act of will, and the will involved in an opera- 
tion of the understanding, they are still, according to his doc- 
trine, separately though jointly exercised. The will which is 
active, directs the understanding which is not active ; so that 
the mind, in consequence of this direction, may be said to be 
active in every such operation of the understanding. In cases 
in which the understanding is not directed by the will, the mind, 
on his principles, is not active in an operation of the under- 
standing. Now, if, ininvoluntary thinking and comparing, (and 
that we do involuntarily think and compare is manifest,) the 
mind is not active, how can it be imagined to be so, when the 
thinking is induced by the will ? Surely the act of thinking 
must in thts respect be the same, whether it be voluntary or in- 
voluntary ; the mind cannot well be conceived to be active in 
the former, and passive in the latter case. The activity of the 
mind must cease, according to Dr. Reid's doctrine, even in 
cases where an operation of the understanding is directed by 

* Vol. i. pp. 98, 99. 



OF THE MENTAL PHENOMENA. 69 

the will — cease with the volition which impelled it ; so that in 
an operation of the understanding, the mind is, in all cases, 
passive. In this way only, as it appears to me, can the con- 
sistency of those who adopt Dr. Reid's classification be 
defended. 

In thus vindicating their consistency, we however involve 
them, perhaps, in greater difficulties. For if the activity of the 
mind ceases with the volition, by which the subsequent opera- 
tion of the understanding was directed, (and if it does not 
cease, the propriety] of their division of the mental phamomena 
must be abandoned,) it follows that the mind is inactive in per- 
ceiving, comparing, judging, &c. ; and active, when it exists 
in any of the states denominated appetites, passions, affections, 
&c. which are said to belong to the active powers ; i. e. (for 
such is the strange doctrine which seems to be necessarily in- 
volved in this statement,) the mind is passive when it thinks, 
and active when it feels ! And, if this be the case, why does 
Dr. Reid talk of an act of the understanding — operations of the 
understanding ? Might he not with equal propriety talk of an 
act of sensation, on the ground that an individual had resorted 
to voluntary and active means to secure its existence 1 

This doctrine of Dr. Reid and Mr. Stewart, of the passivity 
of the mind in its intellectual states and exercises, in contra- 
distinction from its other states, is proved by Dr. Brown, with 
resistless power of argument, to be unfounded. " In whatever 
manner we define the term active, is the mind," he asks, "more 
active when it merely desires good and fears evil, — when it 
looks with esteem on virtue, and with indignation, or disgust, 
or contempt, on vice, than when it pursues a continued train 
of reasoning, or fancy, or historical investigation ?" " Surely," 
he adds, " when it records the warning lessons of the past, or 
expatiates in fields which itself creates, of fairy beauty or sub- 
limity, or comprehends whole moving worlds within its glance, 
and calculates and measures infinitude ; — the mind is active, 
or there are no moments in which it is so !"* 

In further support of this general statement, the same writer 
adds, " It is only when some intellectual energy co-exists with 
desire, that the mind is said to be active, even by those who 
are unaccustomed to metaphysical nomenclature. Passion is 
active only when, with intellectual action, it compares means 
with ends, and deliberates, resolves, and executes. Ambition 
acts by prompting to the devising of means for gratifying its 

* Vol. i. p. 359. 
7 



70 ANALYSIS AND ARRANGEMENT 

insatiable appetite. As a passion, it is the mere desire of power 
or glory. It is in the intellectual part of the process that the 
mind is active ; for it is only intellectually, with the exception 
of the production of muscular motion, that the mind can act, 
To class the active powers, therefore, as distinct from the in- 
tellectual, he adds, is to class them as opposed to that without 
which, as active powers, they cannot even exist."* 

It must not be forgotten that the language of Dr. Brown 
here regards the mental phenomena, as they are in them- 
selves ; it does not consider them m relation to the faculties 
which they may call into action. Whatever sense be attached 
to the term active, the mind must be as active in an operation 
of the understanding (to employ the language commonly used 
on this subject) as in an operation of the will. In fact, how- 
ever, it will be found difficult, if not impossible, to attach any 
definite ideas to the terms activity and passivity, when em- 
ploye^ in reference to different states of , mind, as they are in 
themselves. Much false conception, it is believed, or rather 
want of conception, prevails upon this subject. The mind is 
usually said to be passive in sensation, (though this is at va- 
riance with Dr. Reid's classification,) and active in admiring, 
loving, &c. We ask, what is meant by passivity and activity 
here ? If it be replied, that we are passive in sensation, because 
sensation is not the result of volition — :that the mind cannot 
but feel, &c; we reply, that admiring, loving, &c. are not in- 
variably even indirectly the result of volition, and that they are 
never directly so ; that, in many cases at least, we might per- 
haps say in all cases, the mind cannot but admire, love, &c. 
Where then is the difference ? If it be alledged that admiring, 
loving, &c. prompt to action, &c; we answer, so does sen- 
sation. It is admitted that love to an object will produce de- 
sire and exertion to secure it ; but in the same manner, the 
sensation of pain will awaken desire of relief, and lead to the 
adoption of measures to obtain it. Where then is the differ- 
ence 1 If it be alledged that there is an essential difference in 
the states of mind themselves, — that the state, or affection de- 
signated by the word sensation, is in itself essentially passive, 
while the state or affection designated by the term love, admi- 
ration, &c. is essentially active ; — we answer, it may be so, 
for any thing we know to the contrary, but that we do not un- 
derstand the assertion. It will be found impossible, we be- 
lieve, to attach any definite signification to the terms activity 

* Vol. i. pp. 359, 3G0. 



Of" THE MENTAL PHENOMENA. 71 

and passivity, in their application to states or affections of the 
mind, except this, that the passive states are produced, and 
that the active states arc the producers of others, or of some 
change upon the body. And, if this be true, there is not a 
single mental affection in which the mind may not be both ac- 
tive and passive ; u e. there is not a single state which may 
not be both a cause and an effect. Sensation is produced ; it 
does not arise spontaneously ; it produces, also, some other 
state. Admiration, belief, love, volition, &c. are produced; 
they can no more arise spontaneously, i. e. exist without a 
cause, than sensation, and like it they produce some other 
state. 

The term activity, then, has no meaning when applied to 
any state of mind, but in reference to its results. But though 
it should be admitted that all the mental phenomena may be 
active, inasmuch as they may beeome the antecedents of cer- 
tain changes, are not some of them, it may be asked, more es- 
pecially entitled to the name of active powers, on the ground 
that to them must be ultimately traced all the bustle, and vi- 
gor, and animation, which we see around ns ? This is denied 
by Dr. Brown. " In what sense," says he, " can it be said 
that joy and grief lead to action, even indirectly, more than 
any other feelings, or states, in which the mind is capable of 
existing? We may, indeed, act when we are joyful or sorrow- 
ful, as we may act when we perceive a present object, or re- 
member the past ; but we may also remain at rest, and remain 
equally at rest in the one case as in the other. Our intellec- 
tual energies, indeed, even in this sense, as indirectly leading 
to action, are, in most cases, far more active than sorrow, even 
in rts very excesses of agony and despair ; and in those cases 
in which sorrow does truly lead to action, as when we strive to 
remedy the past, the mere regret that constitutes the sorrow is 
not so closely connected with the conduct which we pursue; 
as the intellectual states of mind that intervened- — the succes- 
sive judgments by which we have compared projects with pro- 
jects, and chosen at last the plan which, in relation to the ob- 
ject in view, has seemed to us, upon the whole, the most ex- 
pedient."* 

It may, perhaps, be doubted whether Dr. Brown's reasoning 
does full justice to this argument in support of Dr. Reid's 
classification. Conceding to Dr. Brown, that our intellectual 
states of mind are the more immediate, or the proximate cause 

* Vol. L p. 361, 



72 ANALYSIS AND ARRANGEMENT 

of action, it might be contended, that those affections which 
belong to the order of feeling, constitute the radical and ulti- 
mate cause. Is it not apparent, indeed, that what Dr. Reid 
classes with our active powers — our appetites, passions, de- 
sires, &c. are the springs, so to speak, which keep the whole 
machinery of the mind in motion ? There would be no intel- 
lectual activity were there no curiosity, no desire, no suscep- 
tibility of pleasure or of pain. It may be true, that^ sorrow 
was not so directly connected with the conduct which we pur- 
sued, as the intellectual states that intervened ; but then, with- 
out this sorrow, these intellectual states themselves would not 
have intervened. There would have been no comparison of 
project with project — no prosecution of the plan of which he 
speaks. Were we possessed of nothing but intellect, life 
would be a dull, monotonous, insipid, and wearisome calm. 
In fact, it is the best argument in defence of this old division of 
the mental powers, that those states of mind which are classed 
with the active powers, are, in cases in which action is the re- 
sult, generally speaking, the radical and ultimate cause of it. 

Still, however, this division is imperfect, because some of 
the phsenomena which are classed with the active powers, and 
which must be classed with them, do not always lead to action. 
They are accordingly destitute, in this case, of the essential 
characteristic of their class. 

The classification of Dr. Reid transgresses also the other 
canon with reference to arrangement : it does not include all 
the mental phsenomena. There are some states of mind 
which cannot well be said to belong either to the understand- 
ing, or the will — to the intellectual or active powers. To which 
department shall we assign the feelings of acquiesence, satis- 
faction, and a variety of others of a similar kind ? 

It may, also, be further objected against any such division 
of the powers of the mind, that it is adapted to perpetuate 
those false views of the nature of those powers to which such 
frequent reference has been made. " No sooner," says Dr. 
Brown, " were certain affections of the mind classed together, 
as belonging to the will, and certain others as belonging to the 
understanding, than the understanding and the will ceased to be 
considered as the same individual substance, and became im- 
mediately, as it were, two opposite and contending powers in 
the empire of mind, as distinct as any two sovereigns with 
their separate nations under their control ; and it became an 
object of as fierce contention to determine whether certain 
affections of the mind belonged to the understanding or the 



OF THE MENTAL PHENOMENA. 73 

will, as in the management of political affairs, to determine 
whether a disputed province belonged to one potentate or to 
another. Every new diversity of the faculties of the mind, in- 
deed, converted each faculty into a little independent mind."* 

Dissatisfied with all previous arrangements, Dr. Brown 
presents us with one entirely original. The reader will observe 
that it is in harmony with the leading principles of his system, 
viz. that the business of the intellectual philosopher is to ana- 
lyze and classify the phenomena of mind ; which phenomena 
are to be no otherwise regarded than as the mind itself in. 
various states of thought and feeling. 

The following statement of the classes, and orders, ih> 
which he arranges the mental phenomena, is taken from hi& 
Physiology : 

" Of these states or affections of mind, when we consider 
them in all their variety, there is one physical distinction that 
cannot fail to strike us. Some of them arise in consequence 
of the operation of external things — the others in consequence 
of mere previous feelings of the mind itself. In this difference, 
then, of their antecedents (t. e. as being external or internal,) 
we have a ground of primary division. The phenomena may 
be arranged as of two classes, — The External affections 
of the mind ; The Internal affections of the mind. 

" The former of these classes admits of very easy sub- 
division, according to the bodily organs affected. 

** The latter may be divided into two orders ; Intellectual 
states of mind, and Emotions. These orders, which are suffi- 
ciently distinct of themselves, exhaust, as it appears to me, 
the whole phenomena of the class."')" 

The following is a more full and methodical statement of 
this arrangement : 

DIVISION I. 

the external affections of the mind. 



ORDER I. 

THE LESS DEFINITE EXTERNAL 
AFFECTIONS. 

Class I. 
Appetites: such as Hunger, &. 



ORDER II. 

THE MORE DEFINITE EXTERNAL 
AFFECTIONS. 

Class I. 
Sensations of Smell. 



* Vol. i. pp. 365, 366. t P. 41-43. 



>*. 



74 



ANALYSIS AND ARRANGEMENT 



Class II. 
Muscular Pains. 

Class III. 
Muscular Pleasures. 



Class II. 
Sensations of Taste. 

Class III. 
Sensations of Hearing. 

Class IV. 
Sensations of Touch. 

Class V. 
Sensations of Sight. 



DIVISION II. 



THE INTERNAL AFFECTIONS OF THE MIND. 



ORDER I. 

INTELLECTUAL STATES OF MIND. 

Class I. 

Simple suggestions, 

Suggestions of Resemblance, 

Contrast, Contiguity. 

Class II. 

Relative Suggestions, or Feelings 
of Relation. 

Species 1. 

Relations of Co-existence, 
Position, Resemblance, Degree, 
Proportion, Comprehensiveness. 

Species 2. 
Relations of Succession. 



ORDER II. 

emotions; such as love, &c. 

Class I. 
Immediate Emotions. 

Class II. 
Retrospective Emotions. 

Species 1. 

Retrospective Emotions, having 

relation to others. 

Species 2. 

Retrospective Emotions, having 

reference to ourselves. 

Class I. 
Prospective Emotions. • 



With reference to this classification of the mental pheno- 
mena, [ perfectly concur in opinion with the biographer of Dr. 
Brown, that it is " original, simple, distinct, and complete. 
The division into external and internal affections is natural and 
obvious. Not less so is the distinction he makes with refer- 
ence to the internal affections ; for intellectual states and emo- 
tions are felt by us as generically different, and must always 
thus be felt by us." The arrangement is also, in its lead- 
ing particulars, complete ; for to know all our sensitive states 
or affections— all our intellectual states— and all our emotions, 



OF THE MENTAL PHENOMENA. 75 

is " to know ail the states or phenomena of the mind." In 
the minor subdivisions Dr. Brown's classification may be sus- 
ceptible of improvement ; but the leading divisions seem so 
much in accordance to nature, that, with the Rev. Mr. Welsh, 
I cannot anticipate the time when another shall be suggest- 
ed so worthy of adoption. 

I would not, however, be understood as expressing full ap- 
probation of the phraseology of the first general division, viz. 
" the external affections of the mind." I am well aware that 
the concluding words will sufficiently indicate, to those who 
are accustomed to think on such subjects, that the adjective 
" external," is merely intended to suggest that the cause of 
these affections is out of the mind. It may, however, be mis- 
understood. It may lead some to imagine that there are af- 
fections which are not in the mind — that sensation is in the 
organ, &c; and on that account I am disposed to regret that 
some other mode of designation was not employed by this 
writer ; yet as the matter is of subordinate importance — and 
as an uniform nomenclature, in intellectual science, as well as 
in physical, is very desirable, it is not my intention to deviate 
from it in the subsequent discussions. 



DIVISION I. 

INCLUDING THE EXTERNAL AFFECTIONS OF THE MIND. 

This division of the mental phsenomena comprehends, it 
must be recollected, all those affections of mind which are im- 
mediately subsequent upon certain states of the body, and 
particularly of what are called the organs of sense, and which 
are never found but in connection with those states of the body 
to which we have referred. Such is the constitution of the 
mind, that when certain states of the material fabric, with 
which it is connected, exist, certain affections of mind are ex- 
perienced ; and to these states of mind we give the name of 
external affections, because the cause of their existence is 
something ad extra. 

Of external affections there are, according to Dr. Brown's 
arrangement, which we propose to follow, two orders ; viz. 



76 ORDER J* 

T 

Order L 

INCLUDING THE LESS DEFINITE EXTERNAL AFFECTIONS. 

This order of the external affections comprehends all those 
mental affections which result from certain states of any part 
of the material fabric, with the exception of the organs of sense. 
By the aid of this exception, we are enabled to distinguish 
them from sensations, properly so called, which, as we shall 
shortly see, are states of mind originated by impressions upon 
the organs of sense. Dr. Brown, indeed, says, that the less de- 
finite external affections are sensations, as well as the more de- 
finite affections of this division, because they arise from a cer- 
tain state of the body. In using this language, however, he 
speaks incautiously. It is at variance with his own statements. 
An organ of sense is the external termination of a nerve which 
proceeds from the brain, and is, indeed, an elongation of it. A 
sensation, as the word imports, is a mental affection arising 
from an affection of an organ of sense. A state of mind origi- 
nated by an affection of any part of the body, which does not 
constitute an organ of sense, cannot then be a sensation ; 
though, as its cause is ad extra, it must be an external affection 
of the mind. In this order of our feelings are to be classed, 

1. Our various appetites, such as hunger, thirst, &c. ; or 
rather, that " elementary uneasiness," which constitutes a part 
of them ; for it must surely be apparent that these appetites are 
complex feelings ; that the appetite of hunger, for instance, 
consists of an uneasy feeling, and a desire to obtain relief from 
it. The elementary uneasiness is, doubtless, the result of a 
certain state of the body ; and the accompanying desire of re- 
lief arises by a law of the mind, which would certainly origi- 
nate a similar feeling in any other case of want or suffering. 
There is nothing peculiar in the pain which constitutes one ele- 
ment of our appetites ; there is nothing peculiar in the desire 
which constitutes the other. Why, then, should the pain and 
desire co-existing, be thought to require a particular designa- 
tion, and to constitute what is called a power of mind in this 
case, and not in others ? A man falls into a pit ; his situation 
is painful ; it originates the desire of relief Why should we 
not say he has the appetite of ascending, as well as that we have 
the appetite of hunger? It will be replied, perhaps, that the 
complex feeling, denominated hunger, recurs at regular inter- 
vals, and that, on this account, it ought to be regarded as be- 



OF THE EXTERNAL AFFECTIONS. 77 

ing specifically distinct from any accidental case, in which 
there is an union of pain and desire. But what is the reason 
of this regular recurrence of the appetite? Is it not that God 
has so formed the body, that it is, at these intervals, in that 
state which is necessary to the existence of the elementary un- 
easiness involved in appetite ? This we suppose will be admit- 
ted. And should it be so, how can it be thought that that cir- 
cumstance can impress a peculiar character upon the mental 
feeling itself? Suppose the individual, referred to a short time 
ago, should fall into the pit at regular intervals ; that that result 
should invariably be bodily pain, and desire of relief; would 
the circumstance of the accident happening habitually and re- 
gularly, convert this complex mental feeling into an appetite ? 
This will not be pretended. And yet the reply of our opponents 
ought to be in the affirmative. 

Dr. Reid has admitted the correctness of the preceding 
analysis of appetite. " Every appetite," he says, " is accom- 
panied with an uneasy sensation proper to it ; in the appetite 
of hunger, for instance, there are two ingredients — an uneasy 
sensation, and a desire to eat, which arise and perish together." 
Surely, then, as there is nothing peculiar either in the pain or 
the desire, the former should be classed with our other sensa- 
tions, {%. e. on his principles,) and the latter with our other de- 
sires. Their habitual union produces no change in their na- 
ture, and cannot entitle the complex feeling to be considered 
as the result of a distinct and original power of the mind — the 
light in which it is represented by Dr. Reid. 

The circumstance which has operated, more than any other, 
to prevent the reception of the foregoing statements, is, that 
the desire is invariably and immediately successive to the un- 
easiness. We are apt, accordingly, to conceive of them as 
constituting but one feeling, or affection of mind ; and this ten- 
dency is strengthened by the fact of their having received but 
one name. In themselves they are, however, as different, 
says Dr. Brown, " as if no such succession took place ; as 
different as the pleasure of music is from the mere desire of 
hearing it again ; or as the pain of excessive heat, in burning, 
from the subsequent desire of coolness. There is, therefore, 
no reason that we should consider the elementary pain itself 
as different in kind from all our other pains ; it is evidently a 
sensation, as much as any other internal bodily pain that we 
feel ; a state or affection of the mind, arising immediately and 



78 ORDER I. 

solely from a state or affection of the body, which is the only 
definition that can be given of a sensation."* 

It is not wished to discontinue the use of the word appetite. 
As the feelings which the term denotes recur at regular inter- 
vals, and are distinguished by that circumstance from other 
co-existing pains and desires, it is convenient to have a dis- 
tinct name by which to designate them ; but we must guard 
against supposing that the term denotes an original power of 
mind. 

I must not pass from this subject without noticing the vague 
statements of Dr. Reid with regard to our appetites." '* Every 
appetite," he says, " is accompanied with an uneasy sensation 
proper to it," i. e. the uneasy sensation is not the appetite ; 
for the companion of a thing cannot be the thing itself. He 
immediately adds, however, "If we attend to the appetite of 
hunger, we shall find in it two ingredients, an uneasy sensation, 
and a desire to eat;" i. e. the uneasy sensation is the appetite, 
or a constituent part of it, and not its companion merely. An 
appetite then consists of two parts. And yet, he immediately 
adds, " that appetite in an infant is only one of these parts ;" 
for in them, he says, " there is no desire." And he concludes 
the whole with the words, " That the appetite of hunger in- 
cludes the two ingredients I have mentioned, will not, I appre- 
hend, be questioned /" though he had himself denied it but the 
moment before !f 

Mr. Stewart, in treating of appetites, says, " they take their 
rise from the body ; they are occasional ; they are accompanied 
with an uneasy sensation, <£c." He does not directly state 
what they are, but his language necessarily implies that the 
uneasy sensation is not one of their ingredients. It would 
seem as if he considered the desire of which Dr. Reid speaks, 
as constituting exclusively the appetite, — a sentiment which in- 
volves, unless there be a difference of judgment between him 
and Dr. Reid on the case of infants, the opinion, that infants 
are destitute of appetite altogether. J 

I have no doubt that the want of precision, which the state- 
ments of these writers occasionally display, results from their 
opinion of the comparative unimportance of mental analysis. 
Having specified several benevolent affections, Mr. Stewart 
says, "he does not state them as ultimate facts in our constitu- 
tion — that several may be analyzed into the same general prin- 
ciples — but that this (notwithstanding the stress which has been 

* Vide p. 83. t Vol. iii. pp. 145, 146. t Vide Outlines, pp. 82, 83. 



OF THE EXTERNAL AFFECTIONS. 79 

sometimes laid upon it) is chiefly a question of arrangement."* 
This language argues, it is humbly conceived, an erroneous 
conception of the object of intellectual science. In physical 
science tl we endeavor to resolve the particular properties of 
bodies into the general qualities of matter." In like manner 
we should aim, in intellectual science, to resolve particular 
states or affections of mind into those " simple and primitive 
laws, by which term we denote the most general circumstances 
in which the phenomena are felt by us to agree." In other 
words, we should endeavor to discover what are " ultimate 
facts," as Mr. Stewart calls them, in the mental constitution ; 
what are the " ingredients," if we may use that language, of 
individual states of mind ; what portions of these ingredients 
are common to other states, and what are peculiar to the indi- 
viduals ; that we may thus arrive at the knowledge of the ele- 
ments of Mind, as the chemist aims to discover the elements 
of the bodies by which he is surrounded in the world of matter. 
Mental science will remain comparatively uninteresting and 
profitless, till more is attempted generally in the way of analy- 
sis, — a field of investigation, into which, it is hoped, the splen- 
did success of Dr. Brown will induce many to enter. What 
can be more barren than the statements of Mr. Stewart him- 
self on the subject of appetite 1 — a barrenness which is solely 
to be ascribed to the absence of all attempt to analyze. Appe- 
tites, he tells us, rise from the body- — are occasional — are ac- 
companied with an uneasy sensation — are three in number, 
&c. — are not selfish — are both natural and acquired ! This is 
actually the amount of Mr. Stewart's section on this subject. 
It comprises all that can be said upon it by any one who writes 
upon Mr. Stewart's principles, t. c. it tells us what we, and all 
men, most perfectly know. How different the statements even 
of Dr. Reid, and especially of Dr. Brown ! What we call an 
appetite is a complex feeling; but its particular "ingredients," 
or parts, resolve themselves into the general properties of Mind, 
as the weight of gold resolves itself into the general quality of 
gravity. An appetite may be analyzed into an uneasy feeling, 
and a desire to be delivered from it ; but there is nothing pe- 
culiar either in the pain or the desire. An appetite is not then 
an element — not a simple and original power of the mind — and 
has no title to be ranked amongst the number of its distinct 
susceptibilities. 

The wisdom and goodness of the Great Author of our frame, 

* Ibid. p. 99. 



80 ORDER I. 

are especially apparent in the provision he has made for the re- 
gular recurrence of that complex state of mind to which we 
give the name of appetite. We can illustrate this statement in 
reference to one of them only. The waste of strength to which 
the animal frame is necessarily exposed, can only be repaired 
by a regular supply of nourishment adapted to its state and 
wants. Some means must, accordingly, be resorted to by the 
Creator to secure the taking of this nourishment. Now, if the 
appetites of hunger and of thirst did not exist, what security 
could we possess that the fruits of his bounty would not be ne- 
glected ? What rule should we have to direct us what quantity 
of food to take, and how frequently 1 " Though a man knew," 
says Dr. Reid, " that his life must be supported by eating, rea- 
son could not direct him when to eat, or what ; how much, or 
how often. In all these things, appetite is a much better guide 
than reason." Or, if it be admitted that experience might, in 
process of time, furnish a rule, would it not, in all probability, 
without the spur and impulse of appetite, be in danger of con- 
stant violation 1 " Were reason only to direct us in this matter, 
its calmer voice would often be drowned in the hurry of busi- 
ness, or the charms of amusement. But the voice of appetite 
rises gradually, and at last becomes loud enough to call off our 
attention from any other employment."* " If indeed," adds Dr. 
Brown, " the necessary supply were long neglected,* the mor- 
bid state of the body which would ensue, though no pain of ac- 
tual hunger were to be felt, would convince, at last, the sufferer 
of his folly. But the providence of our gracious Creator has not 
trusted the existence of man to the dangerous admonition of so 
rough a monitor, which might, perhaps, bring his folly before 
him, only when it was too late to be wise. The pain of hunger 
— that short disease, which it is in our power so speedily to 
cure, prevents diseases that more truly deserve the name."| 

But eating is not the mere removal of pain or " disease ;" 
it is the source of pleasure : a circumstance which has been 
most properly referred to by Archdeacon Paley, as an un- 
equivocal manifestation of the goodness of God. "Assuming," 
says this luminous writer, " the necessity of food for the sup- 
port of animal life, it is necessary that the animal be provided 
with organs fitted for the procuring, receiving, and digesting 
of its prey. It may be necessary also that the animal be im- 
pelled by its sensations to exert its organs. But the pain of 
hunger would do all this. Why add pleasure to the act of eat- 

* Vide Vol. iii. p. 147. t Vol. i. p. 394. 



OF THE EXTERNAL AFFECTIONS. 81 

ing, sweetness and relish to food ? Why a new and appro- 
priate sense for the perception of pleasure? Why should the 
juice of a peach, applied to the palate, affect the part so differ- 
ently from what it does when rubbed upon the palm of the 
hand ? This is a constitution which, as it appears to me, can 
be resolved into nothing but the pure benevolence of the Crea- 
tor. Eating is necessary ; but the pleasure attending it is not 
necessary ; it is superadded to what is strictly essential, and 
can only have flowed from the goodness of God."* 

Should it be objected that this accompanying pleasure ex- 
poses us to the danger of excess, it may be replied, that the 
Creator has provided against this, by rendering it painful to 
continue the supply of food, in any great proportion, after the 
demands of nature have been adequately satisfied. No better 
barrier of a moral nature (and moral agents must be ruled by 
moral means) could have been set up ; and, in most cases, it 
is sufficiently strong : so that to adopt the beautiful illustration 
of Dr. Brown, "Between satiety on the one hand, and want 
on the other, the stream of health flows tranquilly along, which, 
but for these boundaries, would speedily waste itself and dis- 
appear ; as the most magnificent river, which, if dispersed 
over a boundless plain, would flow almost into nothing, owes 
its abundance and majestic beauty to the very banks which 
seem to confine its waters within too narrrow a channel."")* 

In the order of less definite external affections, Dr. Brown 
classes, 

2dly, Those affections of mind which result from certain 
conditions of any of the muscles of the body : for though we 
find it difficult to ascribe them to any local organ, (on which 
account they ought not to be called sensations,)]; yet they re- 
quire for their immediate antecedents certain states of some 
part or parts of the animal frame, and therefore are external 
affections, i. e. states of mind produced by certain states of 
the body. To this class belong 

Muscular pleasures. In early life, the constant and rapid 
action of the muscles is a source of high gratification ; it 
forms, indeed, a chief part of the delight which is experienced 
by the young of all species of living beings. " They seem to 
me," says Paley, " to receive pleasure simply from the exer- 
cise of their limbs, and bodily faculties, without reference to 
any end to be attained, or any use to be answered by the exer- 
tion.'^ In middle age, it is from less violent muscular action 

* Vide Nat. Theol. pp. 518, 519. f P. 394. 
J Vide p. 83. § Nat. Theol. pp. 492-3 

8 



82 order rr. 

that pleasure can be derived ; and in advanced life, repose 
becomes to us, bending under the weight of years, what alac- 
rity and action are to us in childhood. 

JMuscular pains, also, belong to this class. The motion of 
any limb, to which the action of many muscles is necessary, 
cannot be continued for a considerable length of time without 
great uneasiness ; and few feelings are more distressing than 
that which is occasioned by muscular relaxation, after the parts 
had been long kept in a state of tension. The acute pain, 
accompanying our return to an upright position, after long con- 
tinued stooping, has been experienced by all. 

To the same class, also, Dr. Brown refers the various or- 
ganic feelings which constitute the animal pleasure of good 
health, when every corporeal function is exercised in just de- 
gree. " This pleasure," he justly observes, "is certainly more, 
even at all times, than mere freedom from pain, though it is 
experienced with the greatest zest, after the habit of enjoyment 
has been long broken by disease." 



Order II. 



OP THE EXTERNAL AFFECTIONS, COMPRISING OUR SENSATIONS*. 

It is impossible to suggest a better definition of the word 
Sensations, than that which is given us by Dr. Brown. " Sen- 
sations," says he, " are those states of mind, however various 
they may be, which immediately succeed the changes of state 
produced in any of our organs of sense, by the presence of 
external objects." The definition takes it for granted, it will 
be observed, that we have a body and bodily, organs, and that 
there are external objects to act upon them ;,i. e. it takes for 
granted the existence of an external world. In what manner 
our knowledge and belief of something external to our own 
minds arise, will be shown afterwards. It is merely necessary 
now to observe, that the term sensation includes only that class 
of our feelings which are conceived by us to result from the in- 
fluence of something ad extra. 

Assuming, then, as we do for the present, the existence of 
the body, and the organs of sense, the best mode of classifying 
our sensations is, to arrange those together which are received 
through the medium of the same organ ; for though there may, 
perhaps, be sensations of the same sense, which differ from 
each other as widely as others which are received through dif- 



ALL SENSATION IS IN THE MIND. 83 

ferent channels, " if we quit," as Dr. Brown says, " that ob- 
vious line of distinction, which the difference of organs af- 
fords, we shall not find it easy to define them by other lines as 
precise." 

It will, therefore, be necessary to consider separately the 
sensations of Smell, Taste, Hearing, Touch, and Sight : be- 
fore we proceed to do this, however, it will be expedient to lay 
before the read-er some general remarks with reference to the 
nature and process of Sensation. 

I. Our first observation then is, that all sensation is in the 
mind. Were not this the case, it would not be the object of 
intellectual science ; it is accordingly affirmed, in the defini- 
tion adopted from Dr. Brown, that sensations are those states 
of mind, &c. &c. This remark is opposed, in the 

First place, to the sentiments of those who imagine, or ap- 
pear to imagine, that sensation is in the organ of sense. The 
common arguments by which the immateriality of the mind is 
proved, render it manifest that feeling cannot reside in the or- 
gan which is material. If the contrary were the case, a sensa- 
tion must necessarily be divisible, since the organ is so ; but to 
conceive of the half or the quarter of a sensation, is a manifest 
absurdity. The power of thinking is universally admitted (al- 
ways excepting the Materialists) to reside in the mind ; while 
(as it is conceived by some) the susceptibility of sensation 
may have its seat in the body. There is, however, no differ- 
ence in this respect. It is as easy to conceive that matter can 
think, as that it can feel. In either case the notion is absurd. 
The organs of sense are, indeed, necessary to sensation. God 
has so formed the mind, that it never can exist in any of those 
states to which we give the general name of sensation, except 
when what we call an impression is made upon one or other of 
those organs ; but the feeling itself can have its seat no where 
but in mind. 

The general statement now made is very ably illustrated by 
Dr. Reid. He, indeed, uses the term Perception ; but there is 
no difference in this [respect between perception and sensa- 
tion. " We must not confound," says he, u the organs of per- 
ception with the being that perceives." — " The eye is not that 
which sees, it is only the organ by which we see. The ear is 
not that which hears, but the organ by which we hear ; and so 
of the rest." — " A man cannot see the satellites of Jupiter but 
by a telescope. Does he conclude from this, that it is the 
telescope that sees those stars ? By no means ; such a con- 
clusion would be absurd. It is no less absurd to conclude 



84 ALL SENSATION. 

that it is the eye that sees, or the ear that hears. The telescope 
is an artificial organ of sight, but it sees not. The eye is a 
natural organ of sight, by which we see ; but the natural organ 
sees as little as the artificial."* 

The sentiment thus opposed by Dr. Reid, has been proved 
to be inconsistent with the immateriality of the mind ; it is not 
less at variance, as he proceeds to show, with its identity. If 
it be the eye that sees, the ear that hears, and so on, and not 
the mind, the thinking principle is not one but many. " When 
I say, I see, I hear, I feel, I remember," says Dr. R., " this 
implies that it is one and the same self that performs all these 
operations. And as it would be absurd to say that my memory, 
another man's imagination, and a third man's reason, may 
make one individual intelligent being, it would be equally ab- 
surd to say, that one piece of matter seeing, another hearing, and 
a third feeling, may make one and the same percipient being."* 

But is not this doctrine, it will be objected, in direct opposi- 
tion to the common sense of men ? Have we not the evidence 
of consciousness that sensation is in the organ, and not in the 
mind ; Is not the pain of a wound felt to be in the limb which is 
injured ? so that, unless the limb be the seat of the mind, which 
no one imagines, this doctrine of Reid cannot be true. 

To this objection, which I have stated as strongly as possi- 
ble, it has been usual to reply, in substance at least, " that we 
do not really feel the pain to be in the organ ; that our know- 
ledge of the seat of a wound is not gained from the mere sen- 
sation, since children cannot distinguish the precise place of 
their bodies which is affected by the touch of any external ob- 
ject ; nay, that even an adult, pricked with a pin on any part of 
his body, which he has seldom handled, and never seen, will 
not readily put his finger upon the wound, nor even at first come 
very near to it ; that, consequently, our knowledge of the lo- 
cality of any impression made upon the body, is the mere re- 
sult of experience ; so that we can no more be said to feel the 
place of a wound, than to hear the distance, or nearness, or di- 
rection, of a sound ; knowledge which none but the vulgar now 
conceive of as being derived from any source but experience." 
The sentiments just expressed have long been held by the 
most judicious metaphysicians. Dr. Brown maintains, that 
the painful sensations resulting from puncture and laceration, 
would not even have given us the knowledge of our corporeal 
frame, far less the knowledge of the particular part affected ; 

* Vide Vol. i. p. 115. t Vol. i. p. 116. 



IS IN THE MIND* && 

that they are to be regarded, in this point of view, only as 
equivalent to our sensations of heat and cold, which, without 
the experience of other sensations, would no more have been 
conceived to arise directly from a corporeal cause, than our 
feelings of joy or sorrow.* 

But though the objector should concede that originally, or 
antecedently to experience, the sensation produced by punc- 
ture would not be referred to the particular part affected, he 
might still urge, that it is so referred at present, — that at any 
rate now the pain appears to be in the limb, or rather, that it is 
the limb which appears to be the subject of the pain ; so that, 
unless consciousness deceive us, the sensation is not in the 
mind. I answer, that the seat of the sensation must surely be 
now what it always has been. It is easy to conceive that ex- 
perience may have added something to the original feeling, but 
not that it has transferred the sensation from the mind, which 
was its primitive seat, to the limb, which was confessedly not 
so. Consciousness only tells us what is in the mind — what we 
feel, not what is the cause of our feelings. Now it- is not de- 
nied that, in adult age at least, we feel as if the pain were in 
ihe limb. It is not the province of consciousness to inform us 
where the pain is, but where it appears to us to be. And con- 
sciousness cannot be said to deceive us, unless our actual feel- 
ings, and its testimony concerning them, should be at variance, 
which, when the previous statements are recollected^ will be 
immediately seen to be absurd and impossible. Can it be truly 
said that consciousness deceives us, when, by the art of the 
ventriloquist, the sound, which really proceeds from his mouth, 
is felt by us as if it issued from our own pocket, — or when, 
after the amputation of a limb, we feel as if we experienced 
pain in the extirpated member ? Surely not ; because we do 
actually feel, and do not merely imagine that we feel, as if 
that were the case ; and consciousness only informs us, as we 
have said, of our feelings. It may be observed by the way, 
that the latter of the cases just adduced, proves, beyond all 
possibility of doubt, that the actual seat of a sensation may not 
be where it appears to our feelings to be ; and therefore, 
though we should concede, which however we do not, that the 
pain of a puncture, or laceration, is always felt at the exact spot 
at which the injury is sustained, it would not follow that its actual 
seat is not the mind. 

Our knowledge of the part affected is derived from experi- 

* Vol. i. p. 487. 
8* 



86 ALL SENSATION IS IN THE MIND. 

ence, in the same way as we gain our information of the dis- 
tance of a visual, and the direction of a sonorous, object. The 
mental feeling was originally different, when different parts of 
the body are affected. The knowledge of this difference is 
speedily gained ; and when we say the pain is in the hand or 
the foot, we do no more in fact than express a rapid judgment, 
the result of experience, that the sensation of which we speak 
proceeds from an injury sustained in one or other of those 
members. Still the sensation is in the mind, and can be no 
where else : and the provision which the Creator has made, to 
secure the certain existence of this judgment, displays his 
goodness. Did not that provision exist, we should be exposed 
to the greatest danger. In some cases, a whole limb might be 
consumed, ere we discovered the external cause of the agony 
we endured. God has, therefore, so constituted the mind, 
that the feeling is originally different when the parts of the body 
which sustain the injury are different ; so that the pain appears 
to us as if it were in the hand, or the toe, which, in regard to 
its practical use, is the same thing precisely as if it were 
actually there. 

• Secondly, I oppose the observation that all sensation is in 
the mind, to those who refer it to what they call the animal, in 
contradistinction from the rational, soul. It is not an unusual 
opinion that there are three distinct principles in man — the 
material principle, which connects him with the inanimate 
world, — the animal principle, which is common to him with 
the brutes, — and the immaterial or spiritual principle, which, 
being of a higher order, allies him to the Deity. It is to the 
second of these principles,Jwhich is not regarded as immaterial, 
that sensation is ascribed by those who maintain the opinion to 
which reference is now made ; so that sensation is not in the 
mind, properly so called, but in that part of our nature which 
supports thejunctions of animal life. 

It appears to me that true philosophy knows nothing of this 
supposed intermediate principle, — a principle which is neither 
matter nor mind, but an unnatural and monstrous mixture of 
both. It will be found in vain to plead, in support of its exist- 
ence, the language of Scripture, because the phraseology of 
the apostle, " body, soul, and spirit," was employed, in con- 
sequence of its accordance with the reigning philosophy ; and, 
if it be regarded as authority on this point, we must, for a 
similar reason, discard the Newtonian system of astronomy, 
and adopt the clumsy hypothesis of the Ptolemaics, that the 
sun revolves round this little speck of earth. There are, it is 



SENSATION THE RESULT OF BODILY CHANGE. 87 

imagined, only two principles in our nature — matter and mind ; 
the latter being the seat of all sensation and thought ; and the 
former, as essentially incapable of either, as the earth on which 
we tread. The addition of what is called a principle of animal 
life, to explain the vital phenomena, is, I apprehend, the intro- 
duction of a cause to account for certain appearances, which 
appearances are as inexplicable, after the introduction of the 
supposed cause, as they were before it. To me it has long 
appeared that the only conceivable principle of animal life, is 
the mysterious union of mind with a certain organized bodily 
frame. Life commences with the formation of this union ; it 
is extinguished on its dissolution. It certainly follows, from 
this statement, that brute animals, as well as men, possess 
mind, or an immaterial principle ; a sentiment which cannot 
be rejected without embracing the dogmas of materialism. It 
is true that the mind of irrational creatures is of a nature infe- 
rior to that of man ; and not destined, like the latter, to im- 
mortality. But that brutes possess mind, and that mind is the 
seat of sensation, is as true of them, as it is of man himself. 

II. The second general observation concerning sensation 
is, that the term is restricted in its application to those states 
of mind which directly result from certain changes in the 
organs of sense, or in its widest range, to such as are the im- 
mediate result of some bodily change. To express the same 
sentiment in different words, sensations are those states of 
mind which require, for their immediate antecedent, some ex- 
ternal or material cause. The mind is susceptible of innumer- 
able feelings which are not sensations, because their immediate 
antecedents are certain previous states of the mind itself. 
Hence it is unphilosophical to talk of the sensations of joy or 
sorrow, though of these feelings we have a very distinct con- 
sciousness. 

There is a want of precision, in the manner in which this 
term is sometimes employed, that tends to confound things 
which essentially differ from each other. Dr. Reid sometimes 
uses it to denote all the varieties of our feelings, without any 
reference to their^causes, as either external or internal. " Al- 
though," says he, " the present subject leads us to consider 
only the sensations which we have by means of our external 
senses,"* &c. — language which implies that there may be 
sensations which are not by means of the external senses. 
And again, " Every thing we call happiness, pleasure, or 

* Vol. i. p; 324. 



88 INCLUDES ALL SUCH PEELINGS. 

enjoyment, on the one hand, and on the other, every thing we 
call misery, pain or uneasiness, is sensation or feeling."* 
From these examples, especially the last, it is manifest that 
Dr. Reid did not sufficiently discriminate the class of feelings 
which the term properly designates ; for " it is not applicable 
to all the varieties of our consciousness," says Dr. Brown, 
" but to those particular varieties which are immediately suc- 
cessive to certain affections of our organs of sense. Feeling 
is a more comprehensive word ; we are said to feel indignation, 
love, surprise, as readily as we are said to feel the warmth of 
a fire, or the coldness of snow," the latter feelings only, how- 
ever, are sensations.*)* 

It must be particularly observed, as it is stated in the defini- 
tion given a short time ago, that sensations are those states of 
mind which immediately succeed certain changes in the bodily 
organs. It very frequently happens that a long train of rapidly 
successive feelings is awakened by a single impression upon 
an organ of sense. It is, however, only to the first in the series, 
to that which is directly consequent upon the bodily affection, 
that the term sensation is properly applied. 

It is not possible, by any effort, to bring the mind into that 
state which is produced by any external object upon an organ 
of sense. The remembrance or the conception of a sensation, 
is a totally different state of mind from the sensation itself. It 
is uniformly, in our waking hours at least, of a less powerful 
and stimulating nature. I say in our waking hours, because, if 
the consciousness of others resembles my own at least, we 
sometimes have, during sleep, sensations (if we may so call 
them) of sight and touch as vivid as any that occur to us while 
awake. The phenomena of sleep, however, involved, as they 
must be admitted to be, in so much perplexity, are not to be 
taken into the account here. 

III. The next general observation in reference to sensation 
is, that we must be careful not to regard the term as restricted, 
in its application, to those states of mind which are decidedly 
pleasing or painful in their nature. There is some danger that 
a young inquirer may do this. A sensation, he is apt to imagine, 
is something that is very distinctly felt ; and no sensation can 
be thus felt, which is, in its own nature, indifferent. The term, 
however, should be regarded as comprehending every mental 
affection that is the immediate consequent of an impression 
upon any organ of sense ; and it is the opinion of all our most 

* Vide p. 326. t P; 399. 



ORGANIC CHANGE UNKNOWN. 89 

enlightened metaphysicians, (an opinion, indeed, which is all but 
self-evident,) that by far the greater number of our sensations 
are of a kind which cannot be termed either agreeable or dis- 
agreeable. There is no object of sense which does not, when 
it comes in contact with its respective organ, produce a sensa- 
tion. " I apprehend," says Dr. Reid, " that besides the sensa- 
tions which are either agreeable or disagreeable, there is still a 
greater number that are indifferent. To these we give so little 
attention that they have no name, and are immediately forgot, 
as if they had never been ; and it requires attention to the ope- 
rations of our minds, to be convinced of their existence. For 
this end we may observe that to a good ear, every human voice 
is distinguishable from all others. Some voices are pleasant, 
some disagreeable ; but the far greater part can neither be said 
to be one or the other. The same thing may be said of other 
sounds, and no less of tastes, smells, and colors ; and if we 
consider that our senses are in continual exercise while we are 
awake, that some sensation attends every object they present 
to us, and that familiar objects seldom raise any emotion plea- 
surable or painful,— r we shall see reason, besides the agreeable 
and disagreeable, to admit a third class of sensations, that may 
be called indifferent."* 

Of what use then, it may be asked, is this large class of in- 
different sensations ? The question, we answer, can only in- 
volve difficulty in the case of those who forget that a feeling, 
or a susceptibility of feeling, may possess the highest value, 
and prove ultimately the spring of exalted enjoyment, which is 
not itself attended with delight. " If a man had no ear to re- 
ceive pleasure from the harmony or melody of sounds, he 
would still find the sense of hearing of great utility. Though 
sounds gave him neither pleasure nor pain of themselves, they 
would give him much useful information." " Think of the in- 
numerable sensations produced by the words and letters of a 
volume lying open before us. They are indifferent in them- 
selves, yet are they more precious, even in relation to happi- 
ness itself, from the intellectual and moral benefit they are the 
means of imparting, than other sensations of which it is the 
very essence to be delightful." 

IV. Another important general remark in reference to sen- 
sation is, that we are utterly ignorant of the nature of that 
change, in the bodily organ, which has been affirmed to be 
essential to sensation. The affection of the sentient mind, 

* Vide Essay ii. chap. xvi. p. 327. 



90 CONNECTION BETWEEN THE ORGAN 

is the result of the presence of an external object, or rather 
of a certain state of the organ, which is produced by the pre- 
sence and influence of the object; for that when rays of light, 
for instance, come in contact with the optic nerve, they effect 
some change in its state, before sensation can exist in the 
mind, there can be no doubt, though what this change is we 
are unable even to conjecture. Were there any encourage- 
ment to make an attempt to ascertain its nature, it would be 
the province of the anatomist to do it ; but there is none. Dr. 
Reid expressly states that we know nothing of it ; and he gives 
the name of impression to this change in the organ, in prefer- 
ence to several others to which he refers, on the ground that 
it better comports with our ignorance. Even this term, how- 
ever, is not unexceptionable. It conveys, as Dr. Brown justly 
observes, too much of the notion of a peculiar well-known spe- 
cies of action ; that which consists in producing an image of 
the external object upon the organ, — a notion which has had 
a most pernicious effect in the theory of perception. All we 
know upon the subject is, that some change is produced in the 
state of the organ ; and, therefore, a phrase which expresses 
the least possible knowledge, must be allowed to be the best 
suited to human ignorance." Nothing can be safely affirmed, 
but that sensation is preceded by a variation of organic state. 

V. The next important general observation in reference to 
sensation is, that we know nothing of the nature of the con- 
nection between external objects, or the organs of sense, and 
the percipient mind. It is in all cases of vast importance to 
see clearly the limits within which our path is circumscribed. 
Here our course is bounded by the fact itself. We state the 
entire amount of our information when we say, that if the bo- 
dily organ exist in a particular state (of the nature of which we 
are ignorant,) the mental affection immediately follows. It is 
true that attempts have been made to trace the progress of the 
impression, as it is called, upon the organ, from the extremity 
of the nerve to the mind, supposed to reside in the brain. But 
even if there be any such progress, it is manifestly a material 
or bodily change, whose course we attempt to mark ; — the 
very last of the series of changes, is a material change — an 
alteration of the central mass of nervous matter called the 
brain. So that, if the whole of the conceived process were 
before us, we should be left as much in the dark as ever. The 
grand question would remain to be solved, " How does it hap- 
pen that sensation should be the immediate result of a certain 
state of the brain?" 



AND THE MIND UNKNOWN. 91 

The intellectual philosopher might, we conceive, refuse to 
concern himself about the corporeal part of the process in sen- 
sation — if there be such a process — on the ground that it does 
not belong to his science. It may not, however, be useless to 
lay the substance of what has been stated on this subject be- 
fore the reader. 

The brain, we are told — for it seems necessary to give 
here some account of that organ — is of a half fibrous, but soft 
and pulpy texture, consisting of many convolutions, adapted 
perhaps to answer particular purposes in the economy of life, 
though it is impossible for us to ascertain what those purposes 
are. From the brain, or the spinal marrow, which is an elon- 
gation of the brain, proceed a vast number of fine cords, call- 
ed nerves, which make their way to all parts of the body, se- 
parating into smaller branches as they proceed, until they be- 
come invisible to the naked eye. They are, it should be espe- 
cially observed, of the same substance with the brain itself, 
" and in perfect continuity with that substance, forming, there- 
fore, with it what may be considered as one mass, as much as 
the whole brain itself may be considered as one mass." The 
extremities of these nerves constitute what we call organs of 
sense, with which the causes of sensation come in contact ; 
and all, in fact, which is certainly known concerning sensation 
is, that when the organ, the nerve, and the brain are in a sound 
state, or not materially diseased, a change of state in the organ, 
produced by some external cause, is followed by that mental 
feeling to which we give the name of sensation. 

With reference to the corporeal process just alluded to, it is 
generally thought that this change in the state of the organ, is 
succeeded by some change in the state of the nerve, and this 
again by some change in the state of the brain, previous to ac- 
tual sensation. " There is sufficient reason to conclude," says 
Dr. Reid, "that the object produces some change in the organ 
(rather in its state); that the organ produces some change 
upon the nerve ; and that the nerve produces some change 
upon the brain." To these changes he gives the name of "im- 
pression ;" and he explicitly says that the organ and the nerve 
are to be regarded as media merely, for making the ultimate 
impression upon the brain, which he regards as the last step in 
the material part of the process. " Here," says he, " the mate- 
rial part ends ; at least, we can trace it no further, — the rest is 
all intellectual."* 

* Vol. i. p. 119. 



92 HYPOTHESES OF DES CARTES AND OF HARTLEY. 

Previous to the time of Dr. Reid, there had been many spe- 
culations amongst philosophers, respecting the manner in which 
this impression is conveyed from the organ to the brain. The 
celebrated Des Cartes adopted the following hypothesis. A 
certain fluid, to which he gave the name of animal spirits, (of 
whose existence even we have no proof,) is secreted, as he 
supposed, by the brain. This fluid is conveyed through the 
nerves, which he considered tubular, to the organs of sense ; 
and when an impression is made upon the organ, it is commu- 
nicated by the animal spirits to the brain, in the pineal gland 
of which, being, of all the parts of that member, the only one 
which is single, he imagined the soul takes up its abode. The 
relicts of this dream of a great mind yet remain in the phrase- 
ology which describes great constitutional vivacity as an exu- 
berance of animal spirits. The hypothesis itself has long since 
sunk into deserved contempt. It is a mere hypothesis. 

The tubular structure of the nerves was denied by Dr. Briggs, 
Sir Isaac Newton's master in astronomy. He affirmed them 
to be solid filaments of prodigious tenuity ; and this opinion, 
as it accords better with observation, seems to have been more 
generally received since his time. He appears to have sup- 
posed them capable of vibration, though their want of tenacity, 
moisture, &c. render such an opinion highly improbable, and 
that the impression is transmitted, by vibration of the nerve, 
from the organ to the brain. 

Sir Isaac Newton records it as a conjecture, whether there 
may not be a subtle fluid, immensely rarer than air, called ether, 
pervading all bodies ; and whether sensation may not be pro- 
duced by the vibrations of this medium, excited by the external 
object, and propagated along the nerves. 

On this hint, the celebrated Hartley appears to have founded 
his doctrine concerning the manner in which impressions are 
conveyed from the organ to the brain ; an opinion which, in 
this country at least, entirely supplanted the notion of Des 
Cartes. He himself explains it in the following manner. "Ex- 
ternal objects, impressed on the senses, occasion, first in the 
nerves, on which they are impressed, and then in the brain, vi- 
brations of the small, and, as one may say, infinitesimal medul- 
lary particles. And these vibrations," he adds, " are excited, 
propagated, and kept up, partly by the ether, partly by the uni- 
formity, continuity, softness and active powers of the medulla- 
ry substance of the brain, spinal marrow, and nerves." This 
hypothesis, as it has been more than once replied, involves two 
gratuitous suppositions — the existence of the ether, and the 



FROM THE ORGAN TO THE BRAIN. 93 

existence of the vibrations of which it speaks; for nothing like 
proof has been given that the words are not symbols of things 
which have no being. It is unworthy the dignity of philosophy 
to contend against such mere assumptions.* 

Granting, then, that in sensation some impression is trans- 
mitted from the organ to the central brain, we ought still to re- 
ject the theories of Des Cartes and Hartley, and to acknow- 
ledge, with Dr. Reid, that we are utterly ignorant of its nature. 
But are we sure that any impression is thus transmitted 1 The 
reasons for the supposition are thus stated by Dr. Reid : — 
41 When the organ of any sense is perfectly sound, and has the 
impression made upon it by the object ever so strongly ; yet, 
if the nerve that serves that organ be cut, or tied hard, there is 
no perception ; and it is well known, that disorders in the brain 
deprive us of the power of perception, when both the organ and 
its nerve are sound. "f Dr. Brown, on the other hand, con- 
ceives it possible, and indeed probable, that sensation is the 
immediate consequent of the change produced upon the organ. 
There is no reason to be assigned a priori, he thinks, and 
very justly, as it appears to us, that a certain state of the organ 
cannot be the cause of sensation, as well as a certain state of 
the brain, especially when it is recollected that the brain, nerve, 
and organ, are of the same substance, and perfectly continuous. 
The causes to which Dr. Reid refers, as preventing sensation, 
may operate by destroying that sound state of the organ which 
has been rendered necessary to sensation. The nerve, organ, 
and brain, forming one great or^an, " a sound state of the whole 
organ, even from the analogy of other grosser organs, may 
well be supposed to be necessary for the healthy state and 
perfect function of each separate part. "J 

Whatever be thought of this conjecture of Dr. Brown, it 
can scarcely be doubted, I think, that, in the words just quot- 
ed, he pushes his statements too far, and involves himself in 
contradiction. If the brain and the nerves be one organ, as 
he affirms ; and if a sound state of the whole organ be neces- 
sary for the healthy state and perfect functions of each sepa- 
rate part, as he further affirms ; is it not manifest that disease 
in the nerves, connected with the organ of sight, for instance, 
would paralyze the nerves connected with all the other senses, 
yea, the whole brain itself? — in opposition to fact, and to his 
own admissions, that the blind are still sensible of sound, &c. 

* Vide Reid, vol. i. p. 122-138. Brown, vol. ii. pp. 424-432. 
tP. 119. JP.431.' 



94 CONNECTION BETWEEN MATTEKT 

Nor does this writer appear to me to have given a satisfac- 
tory reply to Dr. Reid's statements on this point. The argu- 
ment of Dr. Reid is, that when a nerve is bound,, or cut, there 
is no sensation r because that circumstance prevents the neces- 
sary transmission of the impression to the brain. The argu- 
ment is invalid, replies Dr. Brown, because the application of 
the ligature or the knife prevents that sound state of the nerve 
(i. e. as- he means, the organ) which is necessary to sensation. 
Now this reply might be regarded as sufficient, if the ligature, 
&c. destroyed the sound state of the nerve above the seat of 
the injury as well as below it. This, however, if I mistake not r 
is not the case. The sensibility of the nerve above the liga- 
ture, or the division, remains unimpaired ; and as no reason 
can be assigned why the injury should extend downwards, and 
not upwards,the natural conclusion seems to be, that there is 
no sensation below the seat of the injury,, because that injury 
cuts off the necessary communication with the brain. There 
are other reasons, also,- which a regard to brevity will not allow 
me to mention, that concur with the above statement in lead- 
ing me to prefer the old views upon this subject. 

But though we should concede to Dr. Reid that the changes 
of which he speaks are actual steps in the process of sensa- 
tion, the reader is again requested to bear in mind, that they 
are merely corporeal changes. The only difference between 
these writers is r that the one regards sensation as the immedi- 
ate result of a certain change in the state of the organ, while 
the other considers it as flowing directly from some change 
in the state of the central brain. Both sentiments have to 
encounter the same difficulty — " how a change in what is 
mere matter r should be followed by a change in a substance 
so radically different from it, as mind." The hypotheses 
of Des Cartes and Hartley, so far from removing this diffi- 
culty, do not tend r in the smallest degree r to diminish it. For y 
with reference to that of Hartley r the least fanciful perhaps of 
the two, it may be observed, that it is as difficult to conceive 
how vibrations of the particles of the brain should be followed 
by sensation, as how it should spring directly from an organic 
change. Under the influence of these considerations, an ex- 
cellent writer has said, " All attempts to explain the principle 
on which depends the connection between the body and the 
sottl have been unsuccessful. We can advance only a few 
steps in the process, and there the inquiry of the philosopher 
terminates, as well as the observations of the vulgar and the 
unreflecting." Had the assertion been, " we cannot advance a 



AND MIND INEXPLICABLE. $5 

single step," it would, indeed, have been more correct ; for the 
mere tracing of the corporeal changes does nothing towards 
explaining the connexion between matter and mind. Were it 
possible, indeed, to trace them with certainty, we should do no 
more than is effected when we trace the progress of the rays of 
light from the object from which they are reflected-, to the op- 
tic nerve — which leaves the mystery of perception entirely 
unravelled. There is, accordingly, no late writer on Mental 
Science who does not admit that all speculations on the point 
must be entirely fruitless. " Of the nature of the connexion of 
the great sensorial organ with the sentient mind," says one of 
the most enlightened, " we shall never be able to understand 
-more than is involved in the simple fact, that a certain affection 
of the nervous system precedes immediately a certain affection 
of the mind." 

Now there is one circumstance to which the reader's atten- 
tion is especially directed, viz. to that feeling of my steriousness 
with which we are apt to think of the connexion which subsists 
between matter and mind. It carries along with it something 
•peculiarly inexplicable in our apprehension. The nature of 
the union which exists between physical causes and their 
-effects, is not, we admit, unattended with difficulty; but the 
mutual influence and operation of matter and mind present, 
we are ready to imagine, difficulties which are entirely sui 
generis, ^and especially incapable of solution. 

For this feeling, however, Dr. Brown has succeeded in prov- 
ing that there exists no cause whatever in the nature of the 
case. This distinguished writer has shown that the influence 
of matter upon mind, or of mind upon matter, is not more in- 
explicable than the influence which matter exerts upon matter* 
in the innumerable physical changes which we are every day 
called to witness. That a certain state of any organ of sense 
should be directly succeeded by sensation, is wonderful, and 
we feel it to be so ; but that the odor of a rose, coming in 
contact with the olfaetory nerve, should be immediately suc- 
ceeded by that change in the state of the organ which is neces- 
sary to sensation, is equally unintelligible — equally wonderful, 
and yet we do not conceive it to be so. How is this ? 

Dr. Brown supposes that, in the facts just referred to, we 
may trace the influence of the false notion, that physical causes 
and effects are united by some secret link, or vinculum, which 
link, though it resides in the cause, is totally distinct from it, 
or something superadded to it. Consistently with this notion, 
it is easy to conceive of matter being joined to matter; — a 



96 CONNEXION BETWEEN MATTER AND MIND* 

vinculum may be found, or imagined, to unite them. But 
what fetters can be forged, capable of holding in bondage two 
such radically different substances as matter and mind? 

The notion, however, to which I have just referred, is now 
universally abandoned. Mr. Stewart admits "that we are 
unable to perceive a necessary connexion between two succes- 
sive events ; that this connexion may, in no instance, be a 
necessary connexion ; that, in natural philosophy, when we 
speak of one thing being the cause of another, all that we 
mean is, that the two are constantly conjoined, so that when 
we see the one we may expect the other." 

And when philosophers abandoned the notion of a secret 
link between cause and effect, which, though distinct from both, 
binds them together, they should have ceased to regard the 
connexion between matter and mind, as involving in it any 
thing peculiarly inexplicable : I mean, that they should have 
ceased to do this, whatever be the sentiments they held with 
reference to causation. For, if the amount of what we know 
with regard to physical causes and effects, be, that one event 
invariably precedes, and another event invariably follows, we 
are surely not left more entirely in the dark with respect to the 
union of matter and mind. Or, if the physical cause and effect 
be supposed to be united by a direct exertion of divine power, 
it is manifestly just as competent to that power to join, in in- 
variable sequence, a certain bodily change with a certain men- 
tal affection. Or, if it be imagined that there is aptitude in the 
cause to precede, and in the effect to follow — something that 
is in their constitution, of the nature of which, however, we 
can form no conception, to adapt them to stand in that mutual 
relation ; — how can we doubt that it is as easy for the Creator 
to impart this aptitude to a physical substance, to stand in the 
relation of immediate antecedent to a certain mental change, 
as to a certain physical change ? One might imagine, from the 
language of some individuals, that it is not difficult to explain 
how matter acts upon matter ; and we are apt to imagine that 
we fully comprehend the subject. But we delude ourselves. 
We know that the effect is linked, in invariable sequence, with 
the cause ; and this is all we do know — all we ever shall or 
ever can know. How it is so, we can form no conception. 
" Why is it so ?" admits of no other answer, than that God has 
ordained it to be so, and given the cause an aptitude to precede, 
and the effect an aptitude to follow ; but of the nature of that 
aptitude we are profoundly ignorant. That matter should act 
upon mind, and mind upon matter, is, indeed, wonderful ; but 



"NATURE OF KNOWLEDGE OBTAINED BY SENSATION. 9$ 

not more wonderful than that matter should act upon matter ; 
41 since all we know in either case is, that a certain change of 
one substance has followed a certain change of another sub- 
stance, a change which, in all cases exactly similar, is expect- 
ed by us to follow again." 

VI. With reference to sensation, it is especially necessary 
to observe, that we must carefully guard against supposing that, 
by the influence of external objects upon the organs of sense, 
we gain any other knowledge of these objects, than of what 
they are relatively to our feelings. Persons unaccustomed to 
reflect upon subjects of this kind, are prone to imagine that we 
obtain, by sensation, a knowledge of what surrounding bodies 
are in themselves ; in other words, to suppose that there must 
be something in the objects which act upon our senses, simi- 
lar to the sensations they produce — that there is sweetness in 
the sugar, fragrance in the rose, heat in the fire, and so on. On 
the same ground, they might have conceived of pain as resid- 
ing in the knife, or sword which wounded them ; for sweet- 
ness, fragrance, heat, and pain, are all equally sensations, which 
can exist no where but in the mind : *' and to suppose that any 
property of matter can resemble them, is not less absurd than 
the mistake of the blind man, who conceived that the color 
called scarlet resembled the sound of a trumpet." It is not in- 
tended, of course, to deny that there are qualities, or, as it has 
been explained, aptitudes in bodies to produce these feelings ; 
nor that, to the aptitude of sugar, for instance, to cause the sen- 
sation of sweetness, we may properly apply the term sweetness^ 
and so of the other qualities. All that it is intended to affirm is, 
that the quality or aptitude, and the resulting sensation, are not 
the same thing ; and, indeed, that they are not less unlike than 
the sharp point of a needle, and the pain of the puncture pro- 
duced by it. Yet we are apt to forget this ; and, in consequence 
of a bias contracted in infancy, are ready, as it has been ob- 
served, to transport our sensations out of ourselves, and to 
spread them, as it were, over a substance to which they cannot 
possibly belong. This is especially the case with regard to co- 
lor. How difficult do we find it to divest ourselves of the be- 
lief that something analogous to our sensations of color is in- 
herent in bodies ! Whereas it is unquestionable that color, as a 
quality in bodies, is nothing more than the properties of attrac- 
tion and repulsion ; in consequence of which they transmit 
some rays, and reflect others, and so appear colored. And that 
color, considered with reference to the rays themselves, -can be 

9* 



98 



REMARKS ON DR. REIT) 



nothing more than an aptitude, of the nature of which we can 
know nothing, to excite certain sensations in our minds. 

All this, with reference to the secondary properties of mat- 
ter, as they are called, philosophers are now ready to admit. 
Even Dr. Reid contends, not merely that there is nothing like 
our feelings of fragrance, &c. in surrounding objects, but that 
the qualites which produce these feelings are only known as the 
causes of the sensations ; i. e. that our knowledge of them is 
relative, not absolute.* 

Besides the secondary qualities of bodies, as sound, taste, 
color, smell, heat, and cold, there are, however, as every one 
knows, certain others, which Mr. Locke denominated primary 
qualities, such as extension, divisibility, figure, motion, solidity, 
hardness, softness, and fluidity ; and to these qualities the fore- 
going remarks have been thought not to apply. " Our senses," 
Dr. Reid states, " give us only a relative and obscure notion 
of the secondary qualities ; they merely inform us that they are 
qualities which produce in us certain sensations; but as to 
what they are in themselves, our senses leave us in the dark." 
On the other hand, he affirms, "that of the primary qualities 
they give us a direct and a distinct notion, and inform us of 
what they are in themselves." " Every one," he adds, " capable 
of reflection, may easily satisfy himself that he has a perfectly 
clear and distinct notion of extension, divisibility, figure, mo- 
tion." Of fluidity, softness, and hardness, he says, ** they are 
different degrees of cohesion in the parts of a body ;" and ho 
adds, "of the cause of this cohesion we are ignorant, but the 
thing itself we understand perfectly, being immediately inform- 
ed of it by the sense of touch. It is evident, therefore, that of 
the primary qualities we have a clear and distinct notion ; we 
know what they are, though we may be ignorant of their 
causes."")* 

To the same effect is the language of Mr. Stewart. " The 
qualities perceived by smelling, tasting, hearing, &c. are 
known to us only as the causes of certain sensations ; and 
have, therefore, been contra-distinguished by the name of se- 
condary qualities, from those of which we learn the nature di- 
rectly and immediately from the sensations with which thsy are 
connected. "J 

According, then, to the statements of Dr. Reid, and his 
illustrious disciple, the remark made a short time ago, viz. that 
the influence of external objects upon the organs of sense can 

* Vide also Welsh's Memoirs, pp. 21G, 217. 

t Vide vol. i. pp. 332-338. t Vide Outlines, pp. 21 , 22. 



and mr. Stewart's statements. 99 

give us no other knowledge of those objects than of what they 
are relatively to our feelings, must be understood with limita- 
tions. Of the primary qualities of matter, they affirm that we 
know what they are in themselves, and not merely what they 
are in relation to us. On these statements, the following re- 
marks are submitted to the reader. 

First. They appear to oppose Mr. Stewart's own admission, 
that our knowledge of matter is only relative.* I do not dwell 
on this, because Mr. Stewart probably meant, with Dr. Reid, 
that our knowledge does not reach to the essence of matter — 
that it only extends to what matter is relatively to its properties. 
I would, however, suggest, that it appears to be very anoma- 
lous phraseology. We speak of the relations which one body 
bears to another ; we speak also of the relation which one pro- 
perty of matter bears to another property, and one state of mind 
to another state ; but surely it is language unwarranted by 
general usage, to talk of the relations of a substance to its 
qualities. 

Secondly. The direct and distinct notions which, as both 
these writers affirm, we form of the primary qualities of mat- 
ter, are mental states, and mental states alone ; and can, ac- 
cordingly, bear no more resemblance to any thing external, 
than the sensations which result from the secondary qualities of 
matter. Let it be granted, for the present, that there is a dif- 
ference in our notions or ideas of the primary and secondary 
qualities ; that the former are more distinct than the latter ; 
still they are only notions. The qualities of extension and 
hardness, &c. are not to be identified with the notions we form 
of them, any more than the quality of fragrance is to be identi- 
fied with the sensation of fragrance. The qualities and the no- 
tions, it is to be further observed, do not, and cannot resemble 
each other. Hardness and extension are the causes of our 
ideas, or notions ; but, as they are properties of matter, they 
can no more resemble these notions, or ideas, v/hieh are states 
of mind, than the unknown quality of the rose resembles the 
well-known sensation of fragrance. All our ideas, notions, per- 
ceptions, &c. are states of mind, to which nothing external can 
bear the least resemblance. We know these states directly; 
we know what they are in themselves. But we know hardness 
and extension, as qualities of matter, only relatively; i. e. we 
know them only as the antecedents, or causes of these mental 
states. To say we know what the qualities are in themselves, 

* Vide vol. i. p. 3. 



100 REMARKS ON DR. REID 

is to identify the hardness and extension which are without us, 
with the notions of hardness and extension which are within us. 
And this, incredible as it may appear, is the mistake into which 
Dr. Reid has fallen. 

Thirdly, Let it be considered whether more has not been 
said with respect to the superior distinctness of our notions of 
the primary qualities, than the case justifies. Take the pri- 
mary quality of hardness, and the secondary quality of color, 
for instance. '* Hardness," says Dr. Reid, " is cohesion in 
the parts of bodies. Of the cause of this cohesion we are 
ignorant ; but the thing itself we perfectly understand, being 
immediately informed of it by the sense of touch." Now, 
might it not be said, " color, in a body, is its tendency to 
reflect certain rays of light only, in consequence of which it 
appears colored. The cause of this tendency we know not i 
but the thing itself we perfectly understand, being immediately 
informed of it by the sense of sight." Nay, might we not 
pursue the parallel to the other secondary qualities ? Might 
it not be said, " fragrance in a rose is its tendency to throw 
off certain particles, which excite an agreeable sensation in 
us, as the cohesion of the parts of bodies excites the notion of 
hardness in us ? Of the cause of this tendency we are igno- 
rant ; but the thing itself we perfectly understand, being imme- 
diately informed of it by the sense of smell." " Fragrance is 
something unknoivn, that, in a certain relation to our olfactory 
nerves, excites a well-known agreeable sensation ; and hard- 
ness in the table is, in like manner, something unknown, that, 
in a certain relation to our tactual organs, excites the notion of 
hardness. But the notion of hardness is in us, and not in the ta- 
ble, in the same way that the agreeable feeling is in us, and not 
the rose. Mr. Stewart states it as a fact, that we have notions 
of external qualities which have no resemblance to our sensa- 
tions, or to any thing of which the mind is conscious. But 
surely we are conscious of nothing but our own feelings and 
notions. We are conscious not of the qualities, but of our 
notions of them ; and what these qualities are but the unknown 
causes of these notions, we cannot, according to the present 
constitution of our nature, ever know."* 

The truth of the preceding statements will become more 
apparent, after we have examined Dr. Reid's account of the 
difference which, as he conceives, exists between sensation 
and perception ; and when we have ascertained what it is that 

* Welsh's Memoirs of Dr. Brown, pp. 255-6. 



and mr. Stewart's statements. 101 

really takes place in the mind, when we are said to perceive 
an external object. Taking this philosopher for our guide, 
the term Sensation denotes merely that change in the state of 
the mind, which results from an impression upon any one of 
the organs of sense. Perception expresses (he knowledge 
which we obtain of the qualities of matter, by means of our 
sensations. As a mental faculty, or power, it is supposed, 
further, to be simple and original, like sensation ; to be the 
faculty by which this knowledge is gained ; as sensation is the 
power which renders us susceptible, or rather, which is the 
susceptibility of feeling, when an external object acts upon an 
organ of sense. " Sensation supposes a sentient being, and 
a certain manner in which that being is affected ; but it sup- 
poses no more. Perception implies an immediate conviction 
and belief of something external, something different both from 
the mind which perceives, and from the act of perception."* 
" When I smell a rose, there is, in this operation, both sensa- 
tion and perception. The agreeable odor I feel, considered 
by itself, without relation to any external object, is merely a 
sensation. This sensation can be nothing else than it is felt 
to be. Its very essence consists in its being felt; and when 
it is not felt, it is not. There is no difference between the 
sensation and the feeling of it ; they are one and the same. 
It is for this reason, we before observed, that in sensation 
there is no object distinct from the act of the mind by which 
it is felt ; and this holds true with regard to all sensations. "f 
The incorrectness of the phraseology here is manifest, though 
regard to brevity forbids more to be done than to inquire, 
" What is meant by cm act of the mind by which the sensation 
is felt?" 

"Let us next attend," adds Dr. Reid, "to the perception 
we have in smelling a rose. Perception has always an exter- 
nal object; and the object of my perception, in this case, is 
that quality in the rose which I discern by the sense of smell. 
Observing that the agreeable sensation is raised when the rose 
is near, and ceases when it is removed, I am led, by my na- 
ture, to conclude some quality to be in the rose, which is the 
cause of this sensation. This quality in the rose is the object 
perceived ; and that act of my mind by which I have the convic- 
tion and belief of this quality, (what can be the meaning of 
these words ?) is what, in this case, I call Perception. J 

* Vol. i. p. 329. t Vol. i.p-321. 

t Vol. i. pp. 321-2. 



102 THEIR ACCOUNT OF SENSATION 

My first remark on this statement is in reference to some of 
the minor inaccuracies which it exhibits. 

" Sensation," says Dr. Reid, " is nothing else than it is felt 
to be." Now, when we recollect that these words occur in a 
passage in which sensation and perception are contra-distin- 
guished from one another, it will be seen that they necessarily 
imply that perception is something more than it is felt to be. 
Yet, as no affection of the mind can be any thing more than it 
is felt to be, it is impossible to maintain the truth of this im- 
plied assertion, without identifying perception with the thing 
perceived. 

" The very essence of sensation consists in its being felt ; 
and when it is not felt, it is not." Can perception then exist, 
which the language implies, when we are not conscious of it ? 
A sensation has no more right to appropriate to itself the name 
of a feeling, than a perception as it is called ; both of them are 
feelings, or affections, or states of mind ; and if the one cannot 
exist without a consciousness that such is the case, so neither 
can the other. 

" In sensation there is no object distinct from the act of the 
mind by which it is felt." Now, if a sensation and the feeling 
of it are the same, as we are assured, what need is there for an 
act of mind to feel it ? And what can that act of mind be by 
which a sensation is felt 1 And further, what can Dr. Reid 
mean by representing this act of the mind as the object of sen- 
sation, at a time, too, when he meant to say that sensation has 
no object, and is thus distinguished from perception ? Yet his 
words clearly imply this. "In sensation there is no object dis- 
tinct from the act of the mind by which it is felt." Our obliga- 
tions to Dr. Reid, as a writer on mental seience, are very great ; 
yet it is not to be denied that his language is sometimes defi- 
cient in point of precision. What the reader is now, however, 
particularly requested to observe, is the statement of Dr. R. 
that perception has an object, while sensation, as he alledges, 
has none. There is a sense in which this assertion is true, as 
it will be afterwards seen ; but it is not true in the sense which 
he attaches to the words. By the declaration that perception 
has an object, he probably intended that wlien we perceive, we 
perceive something. But, may it not be replied, that when we 
feel, we also feel something ? in other words, are sensible that 
there is some cause of our sensation ? Whether the mere cir- 
cumstance that the cause was known in one case and not in 
the other, if such were the fact, would warrant us in consider- 



AND PERCEPTION EXAMINED. 10$ 

ing the two feelings as the result of two radically different 
powers of mind, will be seen afterwards. 

Secondly, the statement which Dr. Reid has here given of 
perception, appears to be at direct variance with what he says y 
in his Inquiry, concerning the information which the mind ob- 
tains through the medium of the external senses. He here 
talks of discerning qualities by the senses. He tells us that 
" the external senses have a double province — to make us 
feel, and to make us perceive. They furnish us with a variety 
of sensations, some pleasant, others painful, and others indif- 
ferent ; at the same time they give us a conception, and an 
invincible belief, of the existence of external objects."* Now 
in the work to which I have just referred, he tells us, in direct 
opposition to this statement, that the senses of smell, taste, 
hearing, and sight, give us no knowledge even of the existence 
of external bodies, — that we might experience all the sensa- 
tions which these senses can transmit to the mind, and yet 
have no conception, and no belief, that there is any thing with- 
out the mind. How then can he maintain, as he does, that it 
is the business of these senses to make us perceive, as well as 
feel ? And, even with regard to the remaining sense of touch, 
he shows, at great length, that there is nothing in the peculiar 
sensations of which it is the inlet, from whence the existence 
of any thing external can be inferred ; t. e. in other words, that 
the sense of touch does not, any more than the other senses, 
teach us to perceive. His object, doubtless, is to show that 
the sensations of touch, by an original law of our nature, sug- 
gest the notion of something external. But granting the cor- 
rectness of this statement, it is manifest that the notion itself — 
or the conception of something without us — is not properly by 
means of the sensations of touch, though it accompanies them ; 
but by means of that particular form of intuition, that law of our 
nature, of which Dr. Reid speaks, and which is roused into 
operation when the sense tions of touch are experienced. Now 
no such law of our naturs is called into action when the sensa- 
tions of smell, taste, si^ht, &c. are produced ; so that, if we 
were constrained to admit his doctrine with reference to the 
sense of touch — and to say it is the office of that sense to make 
us feel, and to make wi perceive — there would be no pretence 
whatever for extending the same doctrine to the other senses. 

Thirdly, I observe that, taking Dr. Reid's account of the 

* Pp. 349, 50. Vide also Stewart's Elements, vol. i. 8vo. edit. pp. 
92 and 100. 



104 THEIR ACCOUNT OF SENSATION EXAMINED. 

matter, it is obvious that the conclusion to which he comes, in 
the case supposed, does not require, for arriving at it, any dis- 
tinct and original faculty. " Observing that the agreeable 
sensation is raised when the rose is near, and ceases when it 
is removed, I am led, by my nature, to conclude some quality 
to be in the rose, which is the cause of this sensation. This 
quality is the object perceived; and that act of the mind, by 
which I have the conviction and belief of this quality, is what, 
in this case, I call perception." Now, in remarking upon this 
statement, it would be perfectly fair to say, that if the sensa- 
tions of touch had not been previously experienced, and so the 
knowledge of things external already obtained, the Doctor, so 
far from being led by his nature to conclude some quality in 
the rose, which is the cause of the sensation, could gain by 
what he felt, according to his own statements, no notion of the 
.existence of the rose. Not to insist upon this, however, I 
would ask whether the conclusion of which he speaks, is not a 
mere act of judgment, or memory, founded on an intuitive 
belief? A sensation of fragrance is experienced ; we believe 
intuitively that it must have a cause ; experience teaches us to 
class it with that order of feelings which are originated by 
external objects, of which we have learned the existence ; we 
judge, accordingly, in the circumstances described by Dr. 
Reid, that the rose is the cause of it. What necessity is there 
for supposing that the belief, in this case, is the result of an 
original power of mind, to which a peculiar name should be 
given ? A farmer beholds the mangled remains of a flock of 
sheep, — he sees the wolf, in the distance, making his escape, — 
he judges that the wolf has been the destroyer. Dr. Reid would 
not say he perceives it ; and yet the conclusion is the result of 
the exercise of the same mental power which pronounced upon 
the cause of the sensation. Dr. Reid does not venture to say 
here that he perceives the quality. He is only led to conclude 
some quality to be in the rose which is the cause of the sensa- 
tion ; i. e. he concludes that trfe rose is its cause, and is some- 
how adapted to be so. And when we judge the wolf to be the 
destroyer, do we not conclude that he is adapted to be so ? 
And should we not draw the same conclusion, if the animal, 
making his escape with the marks of slaughter upon him, were 
one with whose nature and existence we had been previously 
unacquainted? 

The foregoing remarks prepare the way for the following 
statement, viz. that what we call Perception, is the reference 
we make of our sensations to something external as the cause 



PERCEPTION EXPLAINED. 105 

of them. In the case supposed by Dr. Reid, we refer the 
agreeable feeling to the rose, as its cause. The reference is 
different from the feeling itself— it is different from the object, 
or the rose ; but it results not from a particular faculty of the 
mind given to it for that express purpose, but from the general 
principle, whatever that principle may be, by which we are 
enabled to draw conclusions in other cases. When Dr. Reid 
says, as he appears to do in other parts of his works, that we 
perceive the quality itself, if he intends more than that we con- 
clude there is a quality in the rose adapted to excite the sensa- 
tion, his statement is at variance with all he has said with 
regard to secondary qualities ; viz. that our notions of them 
are only relative — that they are conceived of only as the un- 
known causes of well-known feelings — that, correctly speak- 
ing, we have no conception of them, because " a relative 
notion of a thing is no notion of the thing at all, but only of 
some relation which it bears to something else."* 

But do we not perceive the rose, it will be asked, though it 
should be conceded that we cannot be said to perceive the 
quality ? The answer is, that we do not wish to abandon the 
phraseology, but to determine its meaning — to ascertain, in 
short, what it is that takes place in the mind when the rose is 
said to be perceived. This flower, then, when present, let it 
be observed, produces sensations of smell, and of sight. Now 
these sensations are not adapted to excite the notion, and, 
therefore, do not originally excite the notion of any thing ex- 
ternal ; i. e. they give us no perceptions. It is admitted, on 
all hands, that originally there was nothing in the mind, when 
a rose was present, but the sensations. Now, however, there 
certainly is something more than the sensations ; and the ques- 
tion is, " What is it ?" To that question I answer, " It is the 
reference which the mind makes of the sensations to some- 
thing external, at a certain distance from us, of a certain form, 
texture, &c. as their cause ; — a reference which experience, 
when we have gained the knowledge of things external in the 
manner to be afterwards described, enables us to make. It 
is to be observed, however, that this reference neither involves 
nor is accompanied with any knowledge of the rose, but as the 
unknown cause of these sensations of smell and sight. Per- 
ception of the rose is then this reference, or the belief that 
these visual and nasal feelings are produced by a certain 
external body, to which we give the name of rose. 

* Vol. i. p. 334. 
10 



106 THE NATURE OF 

I am aware that individuals, unaccustomed to such specula- 
tions, will yet inquire, " But do not we see the rose ?" I an- 
swer, that this perception of the rose, of which they imagine 
themselves the subjects, is either the particular sensation of 
sight which the rose produces, or the reference of this sensa- 
tion to something external as its cause, which is known to be 
present by the existence of the sensation, and which is only 
known as the cause of the sensation. 

The child, it is admitted, before he has gained more know- 
ledge than can be derived from the sense of sight, does not see 
the rose in the sense which we now attach to the words. Were 
it not for the sense of touch, it is further admitted, we should 
never see the rose in our present sense of the terms. The result 
of the presence of a rose would be a mere sensation, the cause 
of which would never be imagined to be any thing external. 
Such is not the perception of a rose now ; because the sense 
of touch, or muscular sensation, has given us the knowledge of 
something without us ; and experience has taught us that when 
certain sensations exist, certain external bodies are present to 
the organs, and therefore we refer the sensations to these bo- 
dies as their causes. 

With the sensations of touch, however, or with the muscu- 
lar sensations, which for the present I do not distinguish from 
each other, I admit that there is connected an intuitive belief in 
the existence of things external. It will, accordingly, be per- 
haps contended, that we have here perception in the sense 
which Dr. Reid attached to the term. Let us examine this sub- 
ject a little more fully. 

An external body is brought, 'we shall suppose, for the first 
time, into contact with the organ of touch. It produces its ap- 
propriate sensation. That sensation suggests the notion of 
something out of the mind. It is not only believed to have a 
cause, but it is referred intuitively to something external as its 
cause. What can perception, in this case, be more than this in- 
tuitive reference ? 

It will be replied, perhaps, that, along with this intuitive re- 
ference, there arises, by a law of the mind, the notion of exten- 
sion, figure, hardness, &c. ; — that this notion is the perception 
of these qualities, and presupposes an original power of mind, 
to which the same name (perception) is given* by which it is 
rendered capable of forming the notion. Now, if it be granted 
that such notions do arise, (though it may be doubted whether 
our conceptions of hardness, roundness, &c. &c. include any 
thing more than a notion, in each case, that there is something 



PERCEPTION EXPLAINED. 107 

external which produces the sensations we experience when 
we touch a hard and a round body ; so that our conceptions of 
the primary qualities may not be essentially different from the 
notions we have of the secondary qualities of matter,) it is 
maintained, that they arise in the same way with our belief that 
the whole is greater than its part — or that the order of nature 
will remain the same ; and that we might with as much propriety 
ascribe our belief, in the cases just mentioned, to the power 
of perception, as our notions of extension, figure, &c. It may 
be further observed, also, that if the term perception be re- 
garded as denoting these notions, there can be no perception 
by the other senses ; for, according to Dr. Reid and Mr. 
Stewart's own account of the matter, we have no notion, in 
this sense, of the secondary qualities ; we only know them as 
causes of peculiar sensations ; t. e. we have no notion of them, 
but of their relations." Let it be also recollected, in addition 
to what has been said, that, whatever be the nature of our no- 
tions of hardness, extension, form, &c. they are not the quali- 
ties themselves — that there can be nothing in the mind but con- 
ceptions or notions of the qualities — that the qualities cannot, 
in the nature of things, bear any resemblance whatever to the 
notions, &c. ; from all which it follows, that the primary quali- 
ties are only known as the antecedents or causes of certain 
sensations and notions ; i. e. they are not known absolutely, 
but relatively only. 

In thus stating the opinion, however, that perception is not a 
simple and original power of the mind — that the word denotes 
merely the reference we make of our sensations to something 
external as their cause, I agree with Dr. Brown, to whom we 
are indebted for the most enlightened views upon this subject, 
in thinking, that it is not desirable to erase the word from our 
metaphysical vocabulary. " On the contrary," he adds, " I 
conceive it to be a very convenient one, if the meaning attach- 
ed to it be sufficiently explained by an analysis of the complex 
state of mind which it denotes, and the use of it confined 
rigidly to cases in which it has this meaning. Sensation may 
exist without any reference to an external cause, in the same 
manner as we may look at a book without thinking of the 
author ; — or it may exist with reference to an external cause; 
and it is convenient, then, to confine the term sensation to the 
former of these cases, and perception to the latter."* There 
is, accordingly, no object in sensation, in this sense of the 

* Vide vol ii. p. 47- 



108 ANCIENT THEORIES CONCERNING PERCEPTION. 

word ; i. e. no reference is made to the cause of the feeling. In 
Perception there is an object ; i. c. in perception such a refer- 
ence is made ; and by this, and this alone, it is distinguished 
from sensation. 

Before proceeding to the last general remark concerning 
sensation, it may be proper to give an account of some of the 
difficulties in which the more ancient writers on the subject of 
perception were involved — difficulties with which they could 
not have been perplexed, had they entertained juster and 
simpler views of its nature. It is not easy, indeed, to state 
what were the precise ideas they entertained in reference to 
perception ; the probability is, that there was nothing very 
definite in their conceptions. The language they employ is 
analogical, and grossly material. One thing, however, is toler- 
ably certain, viz. that they imagined that, in perception, matter 
acts in some way upon mind, or mind upon matter, or that 
there is a mutual and reciprocal operation of matter and mind. 
Out of this opinion arose, as it appears to me, the absurd doc- 
trine of perception by images. Of this doctrine I shall first 
give a brief account ; secondly, exhibit its connexion with the 
assumed axiom on which it was made to rest ; and, thirdly, 
present the reader with a {ew of those remarks upon it, which 
the present advanced state of the science of mental philosophy 
enables us to make. 

The doctrine itself may be stated in a very few words. The 
objects by which we are surrounded, are continually throwing 
off certain shadowy films, or resemblances of themselves, call- 
ed anciently species, forms, phantasms, &c, and in more 
modern times, ideas, or, by Mr. Hume, impressions. These 
species, or phantasms, coming in contact with the organs of 
sense, are by them transmitted to the brain, on which, as it 
seems to have been imagined, they impress an image of them- 
selves, or of external objects. I have said, it seems to have 
been imagined, because it is in some measure doubtful whether 
they conceived the image to be impressed upon the mind, or 
the brain, or upon both. It is certain, however, that these 
species, or the impressions made by them, were regarded by 
ancient writers as the immediate, ire, real objects in percep- 
tion ; and that, when they talked of perceiving external objects, 
they intended their language to be understood metaphorically, 
as we may be said to perceive an absent friend when we look 
on his picture. " Plato," says Dr. Reid, " illustrates our man- 
ner of perceiving the objects of sense in this manner. He 
supposes a dark subterraneous cave, in which men lie bound 



SUPPOSED AXIOM 109 

in such a manner, that they can direct their eyes only to one 
part of the cave. Far behind them is a light, some rays of 
which come over a wall to that part of the cave which is before 
the eyes of our prisoners. A number of persons, variously 
employed, pass between them and the light, whose shadows 
are seen by the prisoners, but not the prisoners themselves." 

This statement abundantly confirms the assertion made a 
short time ago, that the language of the ancient philosophers 
on this subject is analogical, and grossly material. It is im- 
possible to reflect upon it without feeling that they must have 
conceived of the mind as possessing eyes like the body ; and, 
further, that the mind perceives an object by looking at it. 
And there is strong ground to think that some modern philo- 
sophers, of great name, opposed, as they imagine themselves 
to be, to the old Peripatetics, have not entirely delivered them- 
selves from the influence of this false analogy. 

The connexion of this view of perception with the assumed 
axiom, that nothing can act where it is not, is manifest. The 
invention of these phantasms was a contrivance to destroy 
not so much the distance between the senses and the object) 
which Dr. Brown alledges, as the distance between the object 
and the percipient mind ; that there might be that mutual 
action of matter and mind which they deemed essential to 
perception. The following statements will show this. " I sup- 
pose," says Malebranche, " that every one will grant, that we 
perceive not the objects that are without us immediately and 
of themselves. We see the sun, the stars, and an infinity of 
objects without us ; and it is not at all likely that the soul 
sallies out of the body, and, as it were, takes a walk through 
the heavens, to contemplate all those objects. She sees them 
not, therefore, by themselves ; and the immediate object of the 
mind, when it sees the sun, for example, is not the sun, but 
something which is intimately united to the soul ; and it is that 
which I call an idea. So that, by the word idea, I understand 
nothing else here but that which is the immediate object, or 
nearest to the mind, when we perceive any object. It ought to 
be carefully observed, that, in order to the mind's perceiving 
^ny object, it is absolutely necessary that the idea of that object 
be actually present to it. Of this it is not possible to doubt. 
The things which the soul perceives are of two kinds. They 
are either in the soul, or without the soul. Those that are in 
the soul are its own thoughts ; that is to say, all its different 
modifications. The soul has no need of ideas for perceiving 

10* 



110 SUPPOSED AXIOM ON WHICH THEY WERE BIULT. 

them. But with regard to things without the mind, we cannot 
perceive them but by means of ideas." 

"How body acts upon mind, or mind upon body," says Dr. 
Porterfield, " I know not ; but this I am very certain of, that 
nothing can act, or be acted upon, where it is not ; and, there- 
fore, our mind can never perceive any thing but its own proper 
modifications, and the various states of the sensorium to 
which it is present. So that it is not the external sun and 
moon which are in the heavens, which our mind perceives ; 
but only their images or representations impressed upon the 
sensorium. How the soul of a seeing man sees these images, 
or how it receives those ideas from such agitations in the sen- 
sorium, I know not ; but I am sure it can never perceive the 
external bodies themselves, to which it is not present."* 

These extracts sufficiently explain the notions concerning 
perception, which were formerly entertained by philosophers, 
and the reasons which led to their adoption. "Whatever difficul- 
ties the hypothesis of species involved," says Dr. Brown, " it at 
least seemed to remove the supposed difficulty of perception at 
a distance, and by the half spiritual tenuity of the sensible 
images, seemed also to afford a sort of intermediate link for 
the connexion of matter with mind." j 

This theory of perception by images, together with all its 
connected absurdities, it ought to be observed, had partly given 
place to more rational conceptions before the time of Dr. Reid, 
whose writings demolished the crazy fabric altogether. Dr. 
Brown indeed affirms, that, from the time of the decay of the 
Peripatetic philosophy, the opinions of the very men whom Dr. 
Reid considered himself opposing, were precisely the same 
with his own ; that he has been misled, by understanding in a 
literal sense what they understood in a figurative sense, and so 
has maintained a sort of " windmill contest " with metaphors 
only ; and, beyond all question, he does produce passages 
from the writings of Des Cartes, Locke, and others, which 
seem to bear him out in his assertions. It is necessary, how- 
ever, to put one statement in the balance against another ; 
and any one who does this carefully, will be disposed, I appre- 
hend, to think that sufficient justice has scarcely been done to 
Dr. Reid ; that more darkness hung over the minds of men, on 
this subject, than Dr. Brown is disposed to allow. Mr. Welsh 
conceives it quite indisputable, " that the language of Locke is 

* Vide Reid's Essays, vol. i. pp. 289, 290. 
t Vide vol. ii. p. 107. 



REMARKS ON PERCEPTION BY JMAGES. Ill 

merely metaphorical ;" the statements, however, of the former 
seem only to prove that they were occasionally so ; and the 
following extract from Dr. Price's Review proves, beyond all 
question, that the old theory of images had by no means entirely 
disappeared. " External objects themselves not being present, 
if perceived, they must be perceived by ideas of them. Nor 
will it follow from hence, that we can have no assurance of the 
existence of external objects. All ideas imply the possibility 
of the existence -of correspondent objects ; and our belief of 
the actual existence of the objects of sense, we may resolve 
(as Dr. Reid does) into impressions on our senses, forcing 
belief at the moment of the impression in a manner we cannot 
explain. And this may be done to more advantage, on the 
supposition of ideas, than without it. For scepticism seems to 
be less favored by supposing, that in perception by our senses 
there is something distinct from the mind, and independent of 
it, really perceived, than by supposing that there is nothing then 
perceived."* 

Upon the whole doctrine of perception by images, the fol- 
lowing remarks are submitted : 

First, that, in relation to many objects of perception, it im- 
plies a manifest absurdity. " If vision," says Dr. Brown, 
" had been our only sense, we might, perhaps, have understood, 
at least, what was meant by the species, that directly produce 
our visual images. But what is the phantasm of a sound or an 
odor ?" We perceive, according to this doctrine, by means of 
all the senses ; and yet by none of the senses is it possible to 
perceive, but by the sense of sight. 

Secondly, that, in relation to visual objects, it is a mere hy- 
pothesis. What proof have ice that an image of such objects 
even as will admit of an image, is formed in the brain ? " The 
brain," says Dr. Reid, "has been dissected, times innumerable, 
by the nicest anatomists — every part of it examined by the na- 
ked eye, and with the help of microscopes ; but no vestige of 
an image of any external object was ever found. The brain 
seems to be the most improper subject that can well be ima- 
gined for receiving or retaining images, being a soft, moist, 
medullary substance."! 

And further, it may be asked, What proof have we even of 
the existence of the species themselves, by xvhich the images in 
the brain are supposed to be formed ? Has any man ever seen 

* Fide Price, note C. pp. 481, 482. 
t Vol. i. p. 149. 



112 REMARKS ON PERCEPTION BY IMAGES. 

them ? Has any one ever been conscious of them ? This is 
not pretended. The only thing like argument in the support of 
their existence is derived from the assumption, that nothing 
canact where it is not ; and that this assumption is a false one, 
will, it is hoped, speedily appear. The whole doctrine of per- 
ception by images is, therefore, nothing but a fiction, or an hy- 
pothesis ; and men, says Dr. Reid, " then only begin to have 
a true taste in philosophy, when they have learned to hold hy- 
potheses in just contempt, and to consider them as the reveries 
of speculative men, which will never have any similitude to the 
works of God." 

Thirdly, that, as an hypothesis, it is useless in relation to 
the great purpose for which it was invented. It leaves any 
supposed difficulty on the subject of perception just where it 
found it. For, supposing the monstrous absurdity, that there 
are images of sounds, smells, &c. as well as of color and form, 
could be disposed of; and that we were to allow that, by some 
mysterious process (a process which, on their own principles, 
must be as mysterious as perception itself,) they make their 
way to the brain, and impress the likeness of themselves upon 
that member ; what real progress should we have made in ex- 
plaining the phenomena of perception ? It was to destroy the 
distance between the object of perception and the mind, that 
the expedient of species, or images, was resorted to. But if 
the brain, on which the image is supposed to be formed, and 
the mind, are not in contact with each other, it is manifest that 
the distance is not destroyed after all. The image is not where 
the mind is ; and, therefore, Malebranche and others have still 
the main difficulty to solve, how the image in the brain acts 
upon the mind (or the mind upon the image, for it is difficult 
to say which was regarded as the agent in perception) where it 
is not. We cannot wonder that Dr. Porterfield should say, 
"How the soul of a seeing man sees these images I know not ;" 
for, if it be true that nothing can act where it is not, — and if it 
be further true, that in perception there is an action of matter 
upon mind, or of mind upon matter, — it is obviously as impos- 
sible for the soul of a seeing man to see an image of the sun 
in the brain, as to perceive the sun itself, at the distance of 
nearly a hundred millions of miles. 

Should it be said, with a view to obviate this difficulty, that 
the soul resides in the brain, so that the image of an external 
object in the brain is present to the soul ; I would ask what is 
meant by this language. We know what we are to understand 
by the assertion, that one portion of matter is present to ano- 



DOCTRINE BUILT ON AN ASSUMED AXIOM. 113 

ther ; the phrase imports that the two are, according to ordinary 
conception, in contact ; but how can these ideas be applied to 
such opposite existences as the soul and the body ? How can 
a material substance be present to, or in contact with, an im- 
material one 1 Besides, if any notion could be formed of the 
contact of mind and matter, how would this diminish the sup- 
posed difficulty of perception ? " Two things may be in con- 
tact without feeling or perception." " This power of perceiv- 
ing ideas," says Dr. Reid, " is as inexplicable as any of the 
powers explained by it. And the contiguity of the object con- 
tributes nothing at all to make it better understood ; because 
there appears no connexion between contiguity and perception, 
but what is grounded on prejudices drawn from some imagined 
similitude between mind and body."* 

The only way of apparent escape from the pressure of this 
difficulty, is to contend that these phantasms, or species, pro- 
duce directly upon the mind, and not upon the brain, images of 
themselves. But to do this is to plunge still deeper into the re- 
gions of mystery and nonsense. For how can an image of that 
which has parts exist in an indivisible essence like the mind ? 
Surely the notion of an image, in the mind, must have appear- 
ed to the Peripatetics themselves as great an absurdity, as that 
any thing should act where it is not, had their attention been 
fairly directed towards it. 

Fourthly, that the assertion just referred to, viz. " nothing 
can act where it is not," so far from deserving to be regarded 
as an axiom, is a mere assumption, for which there is no proof 
whatever. It has been too long the custom of philosophers to 
regard it as a self-evident proposition. Dr. Reid himself declares 
his conviction that its truth must be admitted ; and, for a rea- 
son which does not appear to possess much weight, even on 
his own notions of power. " That nothing," says he, " can act 
where it is not, must, I think, be admitted ; for I agree with Sir 
Isaac Newton, that power without substance is inconceiva- 
ble."! But power residing in a substance, though it should 
operate beyond the boundaries of that substance, is not, it is 
obvious to reply, power without substance. 

Conceding, however, what he does to the old philosophers, 
Dr. Reid is constrained to deny that in perception there is any 
action of matter upon mind, or of mind upon matter, — a denial 
on which some very powerful animadversions are made by a 
writer in the Encyclopaedia Britannica, though they do not ap- 

* Vol. i. pp. 305-6. t Vol. i. p. 290. 



114 THE DOCTRINE BUILT UPON 

pear to be grounded on the most enlightened principles ; for the 
action of one body upon another, can mean no more than that 
it is the immediate antecedent of some change in that other 
body ; and that there is, in this sense, a mutual action of mat- 
ter and mind, is undoubted. A certain change, for instance, in 
the external organ, or the central brain, is immediately follow- 
ed by a change in the state of the mind ; i. e* in the only intel- 
ligible sense of the words, matter acts upon mind. Again, a 
certain volition of the mind is instantly followed by an action 
of some part of the muscular frame ; i. e. mind acts upon 
matter. 

Dr. Reid, however, is driven to the necessity of denying 
either that the mind, in perception, acts upon the object, or the 
object upon the mind, as the only way of escape from all the 
absurdities of the ideal philosophy. He is driven to it, as we 
have seen, by his unnecessary admission of the truth of the 
pretended axiom to which we now refer. And I call it an un- 
necessary admission, since it is as impossible to conceive how 
two bodies, in a state of junction, act upon each other, (what- 
ever sense we attach to the term action — even if we use it in 
Dr. Reid's sense, which seems to include something more than 
immediate antecedence,) as to explain the fact when they are 
in a state of separation ; and, therefore, we have no more right 
to pronounce the latter to be impossible than the former. In 
fact, all the evidence of experience goes to prove that, in order 
to action, it is not necessary that two bodies be in a state of 
junction or contact. The sun attracts the earth — the earth the 
sun ; the moon raises the tides, and alters the relative position 
of every atom upon the face of our globe ; and yet the sun is 
not where the earth is — the earth is not where the moon is. In 
fact there is not, as we have good reason to think, one single 
atom of matter in the whole universe in contact with another 
atom ; and yet the principle of attraction pervades all, i. e. 
matter acts where it is not. 

There is no possible way, then, of supporting the credit of 
this pretended axiom, but to deny that any portion of matter 
can be properly said to act upon another, — to maintain that all 
the motions and changes] in the material world are, in fact, ef- 
fected by spirit, not body, — that God, in other words, is the 
only agent in the physical universe. Nor is it certain that even 
this will answer the purpose ; for it is as difficult, as we have 
seen, to say the least of it, to conceive how spirit can be pre- 
sent with matter, as how one particle of matter can be present 
(to another. That the great Being who formed the universe is 



A GRATUITOUS AXIOM. 115 

so far present every where, as that his knowledge and power 
pervade all times, and all places, is a truth of which we can 
form a tolerably clear conception ; but to talk of his being pre- 
sent in the sense of the metaphysicians, when they say that 
matter can neither act, nor be acted upon, where it is not, is to 
get far beyond our depth, and to utter words which, while they 
reach the ear, convey no idea to the understanding. 

The preceding reasoning is valid, whatever sense we attach 
to the term action ; but if, when we employ the phrase " one 
body acts upon another," the meaning is merely that it pro- 
duces a change in the state of that other body, I can see, for my 
part I acknowledge, no plausible reason for supposing that the 
junction of the two bodies is necessary for the production of such 
an effect. It is just as easy to Divine power so to constitute the 
sun and the earth, as that a change should take place in the lat- 
ter, when brought into a certain relative position with reference to 
the former, though at the distance from it of 9 5,000,000 of miles, 
as if the two were in actual contact. Our feelings are apt to 
deceive us on this subject, in consequence of the circumstance 
that most of the changes which we witness are produced among 
bodies [in seeming contact with each other. We should re- 
member, however, that this contact is only a seeming contact, 
(in fact, if it were real, the change would be equally unaccount- 
able ;) and that there are cases of influence in which even ap- 
parent contact does not exist, — such, for instance, as the mu- 
tual attraction of the earth and the heavenly bodies ; — a fact 
which nonplusses the followers of the old philosophy, (the sup- 
position of any thing intervening between the earth and moon 
does not destroy the difficulty, for still there is no contact,) and 
fairly compels them to acknowledge their ignorance, or draws 
from them a more than ordinary portion of nonsense and absur- 
dity. The time is not far distant, let us e hope, when this nos- 
trum of the dark ages will descend to the grave of all the Capu- 
lets, whither it should have gone long ago. 

Fifthly, that the whole doctrine of perception by images is 
built on a radically mistaken conception of the nature of per- 
ception, giving existence to difficulties, as we have seen, which 
could not have been fancied even to exist, with more correct 
views of its nature. For if perception be neither more nor less 
than the reference, either instinctive or otherwise, which we 
make of our sensations to something external, as the causes 
to which they owe their existence, it is manifestly attended 
with no more difficulty to refer them to something distant, than 
to something near. When the finger approaches a candle, and 



116 THE ORIGIN OF OUR IDEAS. 

we feel its heat, we refer the sensation of warmth to the candle. 
In like manner, when basking in the heat of the sun, we refer 
the sensation we feel to the solar rajs as its cause. There is 
as much difficulty in the one case as in the other, and no 
more ; i. e. there is, in neither case, no difficulty at all. 

VII. The seventh and last general observation with refer- 
ence to sensation is, that it is that power which connects us 
with the external world ; and that to it may be ultimately 
traced all the knowledge of which we are possessed. 

" The philosophers," says Mr. Stewart, " who endeavored 
to explain the operations of the human mind by the theory of 
ideas, and who took for granted, that in every exertion of 
thought there exists in the mind some object distinct from the 
thinking substance, were naturally led to inquire whence these 
ideas derive their origin ; in particular, whether they are con- 
veyed to the mind from without, by means of the senses, or 
form part of its original furniture. "* 

While ideas continued to be regarded as little images in the 
mind, distinct both from the mind and the object, it is not 
wonderful that, with regard to many of them at least, the latter 
opinion was generally held. It must have been so difficult to 
show in what manner a very considerable number could have 
entered by the senses, or been produced by reflection, that it 
was at any rate the easiest mode to say, with Des Cartes, that 
they are innate. 

Mr. Locke raised his voice against the doctrine of innate 
ideas, maintaining that all may be traced to sensation, or re- 
flection. He insists that the mind has no original furniture of 
this description, — that all our ideas of external objects enter 
by means of the senses ; and that the rest are obtained from 
what he calls the perception of the operations of our own 
minds, employed about the ideas it has got. These ideas, thus 
acquired, " the understanding," he says, " has the power to 
compare, unite, &c. so as to make at pleasure new complex 
ideas ; but it has not the power to invent or frame one new 
simple idea in the mind, not taken in by the way before men- 
tioned."! 

These notions of Locke, after prevailing for a time, were 
assailed by Leibnitz and Shaftesbury, who insist that many 
things are innate to the mind, particularly the intellectual pow- 
ers themselves, and the simple ideas which are necessarily un- 
folded by their exercise. On this statement, it has been well 

* Vol. i. p. 94. t Vide Book II. chap. i. ii. 



DOCTRINE OF LOCKE, STEWART, &C. 117 

observed, that " a part of it is doubtless true, though the truth 
is so obvious that it may perhaps be safely affirmed that Mr. 
Locke never dreamed of denying it. That our faculties, as 
conception, memory, and the like, are not ideas acquired by 
sensation or reflection, is just as plain as that the powers of 
perceiving and reflecting are not so acquired. It is mere trifling 
to say that Mr. Locke has not marked the distinction. He was 
not bound to mark it. It is involved of necessity in the state- 
ment of his theory. For the rest, by what sort of logic is it that 
ideas, unfolded by the exercise of the faculties, can be shown 
to be innate?" 

The views of Mr. Stewart differ materially from those of 
Locke. He supposes that sensation and consciousness, or re- 
flection, furnish what he calls the occasions on which the mind 
is first led to form those simple notions into which our thoughts 
may be analyzed, and which may be considered as the princi- 
ples or elements of human knowledge — that the sensations re- 
ceived by means of the external senses, furnish the occasions, 
for instance, on which the intellectual faculty forms the notion 
of sounds, smells, flavors, colors, &c. ; since the notions are 
confined to those who are possessed of these senses — that the 
exercise of the mental faculties furnishes the occasions, in like 
manner, on which the ideas of reflection (according to Locke's 
classification) — such, for example, as those of time, motion, 
personal identity, &c. are formed ; to the existence of which 
notions, or ideas, the exercise of the respective faculty is indis- 
pensable — and that since sensation originates this exercise of 
the mental faculties, all our ideas may, in the sense explained 
above, be referred to it. In answering the question, whether 
all our knowledge may be ultimately traced from our sensa- 
tions, he replies in the affirmative ; but says it implies nothing 
more " than that the impressions made upon our senses by ex- 
ternal objects, furnish the occasions on which the mind, by the 
laws of its constitutions, is led to perceive the qualities of the 
external world, and to exert all its intellectual faculties." 
" Agreeably to this explanation of the doctrine," he adds, " it 
may undoubtedly be said with plausibility (and [ am inclined 
to believe with truth) that the occasions on which all our no- 
tions are formed, are furnished, either immediately or ultimate- 
ly, by sense." The amount of Mr. Stewart's statements seems 
to be, that the exercise of the mental faculties, — as, for in- 
stance, memory, abstraction, reason, &c. — furnishes the oc- 
casions on which certain simple notions arise in the mind ; and 
that impressions made on our organs of sense, or rather that 

11 



IIS INNATE SENSATIONS ABSURF. 

actual sensations are the occasions of this exercise of the fa- 
culties, so that, in this way, all our knowledge may be traced 
from our sensations.* 

There appears to be a mixture of truth and error in the 
statements both of Mr. Locke and Mr. Stewart. That no ideas, 
either in the ancient or modern sense of the term, can be pro- 
perly said to be innate, is now generally conceded to Mr. 
Locke. That some impression from without, i. e. upon an or- 
gan of sense, is necessary to awaken the mind to the first ex- 
ercise of consciousness, or rather (for the language of Mr. 
Stewart conveys no distinct idea) that sensations, as the term 
was formerly explained, are necessarily the first feelings which 
the mind experiences, and without which it would be impossi- 
ble for it to become the subject of any other, or even, as Mr. 
S. says, to arrive at the knowledge of its own existence, must 
be allowed to Mr. Stewart. This is, indeed, denied by a late 
writer, who seems disposed to substitute the theory of innate 
sensations, in place of the innate ideas of Des Cartes. " We 
firmly believe," says this writer, " that its most important feel- 
ings (i. e. the minds) are independent of the senses ; we mean 
the feelings of pleasure and pain, which are coeval with our ex- 
istence as sentient beings, and may be, and we doubt not, must 
be perceived, before the senses are called into exercise." This 
statement most manifestly confounds feelin gs with susceptibil- 
ities of feeling ; the latter of which are doubtless coeval with 
our existence, but not the former. Having committed this al- 
most incredible mistake, our author proceeds, " all that the 
senses can do, so far as the mere animal is concerned, is to 
supply those pleasures which the mind desires," (the pleasures 
are not then in the mind, but are to be brought in by the senses;) 
" and we have elsewhere supposed," he adds, "and we think 
it incontrovertible, that the mind may continue susceptible of 
pleasure, or of pain, in the absence of all the external senses." 
This is readily granted ; but how does it prove that the mind 
may be in a state of pleasure or of pain, before any impression 
is made upon any of the senses, and even in the absence of the 
senses 1 " Take away," the same writer proceeds, u sight, 
hearing, taste, and smell ; will a man then be incapable of feel- 
ing pleasure and pain ? No. Take away the remaining sense 
of touch ; is he then an insentient mass ? No. Supply his 
wants, and he will still be happy." Now it is readily admitted 
that the destruction of the senses, or even of the whole body, 

* Vide Elements, vol. L chap. i. sec 4. Phil. Essays, p. 80-92. 



TRUTH OF MR. STEWART'S STATEMENTS. 119 

does not necessarily involve the destruction of the mind — that 
all its susceptibilities of feelings might remain, and would be 
again developed in similar circumstances ; — it is further admit- 
ted, that the mind, in the case supposed, might be the actual 
subject of states of feeling, which are in a high degree pleasur- 
able or painful ; though not of such as at present directly re- 
sult from the influence of external objects upon the corporeal 
organs. All this, I say, is admitted. But the unparalleled ab- 
surdity of the statement is, that a man may have animal wants 
after he has lost his senses — wants capable of being supplied ; 
for his language is, " Supply his wants, and he will be happy, 
so far," he adds, " as his animal existence is concerned !"* 
Will this facetious writer be so obliging as to inform us, in the 
next edition of that useful work in which this extraordinary 
language is to be found, of what kind of animal wants a man 
can be the subject, and what kind of animal existence he can 
possess, when he is deaf, and dumb, and blind — has neither 
touch, nor taste, nor smell ? 

It must, also, be further granted to Mr. Stewart, that, though 
sensations are necessarily the first feelings of the mind, and 
essential to all others, all our knowledge is not directly derived 
from sensation ; or, to speak more accurately, that our know- 
ledge does not consist merely in the knowledge of our sensa- 
tions. There are, doubtless, notions, or ideas, which arise in 
the mind, by the laws of its constitution, on the occurrence of 
various sensations, and perhaps, also, as Mr. Stewart says, on 
the exercise of its faculties, which bear no resemblance to the 
sensations, which are their necessary precursors. The first 
sensation, according to Mr. Stewart, and the second, existing 
contemporaneously with the remembrance of the first, accord- 
ing to Dr. Brown, gives us the notion of self. The occurrence 
of a certain event, originates the assurance that, in all future 
time, a similar result will be witnessed in the same circum- 
stances ; i. e. it gives us the notion of a cause. All this is freely 
conceded to Mr. Stewart ; but it is apprehended that some mis- 
takes occur in his statements, in consequence of what are con- 
ceived to be his false views of the nature of perception, and 
which tend to exhibit their fallacy. In the hope of throwing a 
little more light upon this interesting and difficult subject, the 
following observations, in the form of remarks upon the doc- 
trine of Mr. Stewart, are submitted to the reader. In the 

First place, Mr. Stewart seems to have fallen into a mistake 

* Vide Edin. Encyc, — article Metaphysics, p. 90. 



120 MISTAKES COMMITTED 

with reference to the notions, which, as he says, the mind is 
led to form, through the medium of sensation. " The im- 
pressions made upon the senses furnish," he says, " the occa- 
sions on which we form," i. e. originally, " the notion of 
sounds, smells, flavors, colors, &c." This language neces- 
sarily implies, that we have notions of these qualities distinct 
from the sensations which they produce. It has been shown, 
however, that the senses of hearing, smelling, tasting, &c. 
give us no knowledge even of the existence of external bodies ; 
and far less of those qualities which occasion the sensations to 
which we refer. Even in adult years, we have no notions of 
these qualities ; we can have none. We have, indeed, a full 
conviction, derived from another source, that there is some- 
thing external, which occasions these sensations. But the 
notions to which Mr. Stewart refers, as being the result of 
impressions upon the senses, and of which he seems to have 
mistaken the nature, are notions of the sensations themselves, 
and not of the qualities which awaken them. When we think 
of fragrance in a rose, for instance, what notion have we, but 
of the sensation it produces ? Having learned, indeed, the 
existence of the rose, and found that, in a certain relation to it, 
the sensation of fragrance is excited, we believe there is some- 
thing in the rose which awakens it ; but it is an abuse of lan- 
guage to call this belief a notion of the quality. 

The second remark relates to Mr. Stewart's assertion, that 
many of our ideas cannot be traced to consciousness.* This 
is doubtless true, in a certain sense, yet it is by no means dis- 
tinctly explained by Mr. Stewart, nor does it appear to be 
generally understood. Mr. Stewart seems to regard con- 
sciousness as a power by which the mind, so to speak, inspects 
itself — its various thoughts and feelings ; or as the act of in- 
spection : and he would seem to mean that, when the mind 
looks within, it finds the notions to which he refers already 
there ; so that their origin cannot be ascribed either to the 
power, or the exercise of consciousness. It is, however, a 
necessary consequence of his doctrine, concerning conscious- 
ness, that the knowledge of our notions, though not perhaps the 
notions themselves, must be traced to consciousness. Notions, 
or ideas, might have existed in the mind, according to this 
system, while we knew it not, if God had not added to our 
other mental faculties the supposed power of consciousness ! 
Who can believe it ? If consciousness, on the other hand, be 

* Vide Philosophical Essays, chap. ii. 



BY MR. STEWART. 121 

* general term, comprehending the whole of our mental states 
so that the consciousness of the moment is the state — the 
thought, or feeling — of the moment ; it is obviously absurd 
not only to trace some, as Mr. Stewart says, but to trace any, 
of our notions to consciousness ; for that would be to trace 
the notion to the notion. Our notions must be traced to the 
circumstances in which the mind is placed, in connexion with 
the nature of the mind itself, as formed to become the subject 
of certain ideas in those circumstances. A certain sensation 
is instantly followed by the notion of something without, as the 
cause of it ; in this case the notion may be traced to the sen- 
sation ; though it is, as Mr. Stewart says, rather the occasion 
than the cause of it— that cause being, properly speaking, in 
the constitution of the mind itself. 

Thirdly, the most serious mistake which Mr. Stewart has 
committed, is the denial, that many of the notions, into the 
origin of which he inquires, are subjects of consciousness. It 
is a mistake, produced by the opinion entertained by him, and 
Dr. Reid, that we know the primary qualities of matter, as they 
are in themselves, so that the notions we form of them are 
essentially different from those which we entertain with regard 
to the secondary qualities. He says of many of the simple 
notions, which in consequence of prior sensations we are led 
to form, that '* they bear no resemblance to any thing of which 
we are conscious within ourselves " — that " they are not sub- 
jects of consciousness ;" i. e. in effect, that they are not mental 
states, or feelings, or operations ; for if they are, they must be 
subjects of consciousness, according to Mr. Stewart's own 
statement, that " consciousness is an inseparable concomitant 
of all the present operations of the mind." Indeed, the manner 
in which he speaks with regard to consciousness in general, 
in the second chapter of his Philosophical Essays, appears to 
me peculiarly dark and objectionable. " From consciousness 
we derive," he states, " all our notions of the faculties and 
operations of the mind. In analyzing them, we arrive at cer- 
tain simple notions, or ideas ; and these," he adds, " form the 
only direct and appropriate subjects of consciousness, in the 
strict acceptation of that word." If this statement be correct, 
none of our feelings are subjects of consciousness. Simple 
notions, or ideas only, are to be thus denominated ; and not 
even the whole of them — notions of extension, and figure, are 
expressly excluded. And of such notions, though they are, 
according to Mr. Stewart's own philosophy, operations of the 
mind, or as much states of the mind as sensations themselves, 

11* 



122 CONSCIOUSNESS THE BOUNDARY OF KNOWLEDGE. 

he yet maintains that they bear no resemblance to any thing 
of which the mind is conscious ! ! Now, as few things can be 
more manifest than that notions of extension, &c. constitute a 
part of the consciousness of the mind ; or that they are, in Mr. 
Stewart's phraseology, the things of which the mind is con- 
scious, it seems to me impossible to account for the manner in 
which Mr. Stewart writes, without supposing that he has un- 
consciously identified the quality of extension which is without 
the mind, with the notion of extension which is in the mind. 

This mistake, for such I believe it to be, is visible in the 
whole of what Mr. Stewart has written on this subject. "Sen- 
sations," he says, " furnish the occasions on which the notions 
of extension, &c. arise in the mind ;" which notions, he tells 
us, "are not the subjects of consciousness;" — "resemble 
nothing of which the mind is conscious." On the same ground 
he might deny that our notions, as he calls them, of any of the 
objects of sense, are subjects of consciousness. His language, 
with regard to them, is precisely similar. " Impressions made 
by external objects upon the organs of sense, furnish the occa- 
sions on which the notions of colors, sounds, tastes, &c. arise 
in the mind." Now why does he not apply his doctrine here 
also ? Why does he not say that the notions of sounds, colors, 
&c. are not subjects of consciousness ? There is no con- 
ceivable reason why the notion, in the latter case, should be a 
subject of consciousness, and in the former case not. The 
probability is, that Mr. Stewart did not confound so completely 
the notion of sounds, colors, &c. with the external cause, as 
the notion of extension ; and hence the difference in his state- 
ments. 

These remarks will prepare the reader, not indeed to adopt 
the doctrine which Mr. Stewart attributes to Mr. Locke, viz. 
that consciousness is exclusively the source of all our know- 
ledge, but to admit that knowledge cannot extend beyond the 
bounds of consciousness. External objects make impres- 
sions upon the organs of sense ; these impressions are followed 
by sensations ; and these sensations, at least some of them, 
are attended with the conception of something external as the 
cause of them. Now, what is known here, let me ask, but our 
consciousness ? We know the sensation we experience in a 
particular case ; but that is our consciousness. We refer the 
sensation to an external object ; but that reference again being 
a state, or, as Dr. Reid would say, an operation of mind, is 
our consciousness. We form a notion, it may be, of the object 
which awakened the sensation ; but still that notion is our 



SENSATION THE AVENUE TO KNOWLEDGE. 123 

consciousness. However clear the notion of any thing exter- 
nal may be, it is still only a notion ; it is not the quality itself; 
it cannot, in the nature of the case, bear the least resemblance 
to it. We know nothing, we can know nothing, of external 
objects, but that they occasion certain sensations, notions, or 
ideas ; i. e. that they are the occasions of particular states of 
consciousness. Should it be objected that this is not to know 
the objects themselves, I answer, that it is knowledge with 
which, however, we must be satisfied, since the hope of attain- 
ing any other is perfectly delusive. To affirm that we possess 
any knowledge of external objects, which does not resemble 
any thing of which the mind is conscious, is to confound the 
cause and the effect ; it is to say, in effect, either that know- 
ledge is out of the mind, or that external objects are in it.^ 

Thus sensation, though one of the lowest of the mental 
powers, being possessed by man in common with brutes — 
some species of which are distinguished by an acuteness and 
extent of the sensitive powers, in some of the organs, which 
were never possessed by man in any stage or period of his 
existence — is that power which connects us with the external 
world. " It is the germ of intellect, and the avenue to know- 
ledge." " In the order of feelings called sensations," says Dr. 
Brown, " we find the rude elements of all our knowledge — 
the materials on which the mind is ever operating, and without 
which it seems to us almost impossible to conceive that it 
could ever have operated at all, or could, even in its absolute 
inactivity, have been conscious of its own inert existence."* 

Having made these general remarks with reference to the 
nature of sensation, we proceed to the classification of our 
sensations. It has been already observed, that it is better to 
arrange those together which are received through the medium 
of the same organ. In conformity with this proposed plan of 
proceeding, let us go on to consider those sensations which 
are received through the medium of the organ of smell. 

Class I. — Sensations of Smell. 
It will be advisable to consider, 

I. The organ of smell. 

II. The sensations which are received by means of this 

organ. 

* Vol. i. p. 399. 



124 FIRST CLASS OP* SENSATIONS. 

HI. The properties of external bodies, by which these sen- 
sations are excited. 
IV. The knowledge which the mind derives from them. 

I. We are to consider the organ of smell. This consists, 
as it is well known, in a set of nerves distributed through the 
delicate and very sensible mucous membrane which lines the 
cavities of the nostrils, and the sinuses with which they com- 
municate. They arise, we are told, from the brain, in a trian- 
gular form ; and, passing over the frontal bone, are conducted 
to each side of the nostrils, and spread out in numerous and 
minute ramifications on the membrane referred to above. The 
whole of this delicate organization is defended by the bones of 
the nose, which are admirably adapted to preserve it from in- 
jury, and to assist in speech and respiration. 

II. The sensations which are received by means of this 
organ; When this organ is affected by a cause, and in « 
manner, the nature of which eludes our researches, a certain 
state of mind is produced, varying with the nature of the 
cause from which it results ; this state of mind we call the 
sensation of smell. It is impossible to define or to describe 
it; all the simple and original feelings of our nature must be 
experienced in order to be known. How it comes to pass that 
this peculiar mental affection should be invariably subsequent 
to the organic change, and what is the nature of the connex- 
ion which exists between the two, philosophy is totally unable 
to explain. We have nothing more to say, than that such is the 
constitution of our nature, which is only another phrase for the 
will and appointment of God. 

The sensations received by this sense are numerous and 
diversified. When we compare them together, we can per- 
ceive very few resemblances, or contrarieties, or, indeed, rela- 
tions of any kind between them. They differ so much from 
each other, as scarcely to admit of classification ; though we 
have a few generic terms, such as sweet, stinking, musty, &c. 
For the most part, however, we are constrained to designate 
them by proper names, according to the causes which produ- 
ced them ; ** such as the smell of a rose, of a jessamine," &c. 
With regard to the terms by which the modifications of this 
class of sensations are distinguished, it has been well observed 
" that they are few, and often such as were primarily applica- 
ble to other classes of sensations. There appears a kind of 
borrowing system — a system of mutual transfer of signs, to 
denote ideas of sensation ; in consequence of which, language, 



THE SENSATIONS RECEIVED, &c. 125 

first applicable to one, is rendered as applicable to another. 
Thus we speak of a sweet smell, and a sour smell ; but the 
terms sweetness and sourness are applicable to the sensations 
of taste. We also speak of a sharp or a pungent smell ; but 
these are terms first applied to the sense of touch, though, at 
the same time, they convey ideas that are clear and intelligible. 
This poverty of terms with reference to the different sensa- 
tions of which we are conscious, is not to be regretted ; for if 
there were distinct terms appropriated to each distinct sensa- 
tion, we should need a dictionary for the terms of every 
sense, and the signs of language would be infinite. They are, 
however, sufficient for the common purposes of life, and for 
scientific investigation." 

Most of the sensations received by means of this sense, are 
naturally agreeable or disagreeable. It is imagined by some 
writers, that none of them are originally indifferent, — a point on 
which it is impossible to speak with any degree of well-found- 
ed certainty. Some of the causes which produce them are 
most powerful in their operation ; and others are even fatal by 
their influence upon the lungs. 

The sense of smell is far from being an unimportant part of 
our mental constitution. It assists us in the selection of food, 
apprising us of the existence of qualities which might prove in- 
jurious to us. It guards us against an atmosphere impregnated 
with vapors, which might extinguish life. It contributes its 
share to the general happiness of the human race — and by no 
means an inconsiderable share, in consequence of the nume- 
rous sources of gratification. " The fragrance of the fields," 
says Dr. Brown, " enters largely into that obscure, but delight- 
ful group of images, which rise in our minds on the mere 
names of spring, summer, the country; and seems to represent 
the very forms of etherial beauty, as if it were the very breath of 
heaven itself. If we imagine all the innumerable flowers which 
nature pours out, like a tribute of incense to the God who is 
adorning her, again to be stripped in a single moment of their 
odor, though they were to retain all their bright diversities of 
coloring, it would seem as if they were deprived of a spirit 
which animates them ; how cold and dead would they instantly 
become, — and how much should we lose of that vernal joy, 
which renders the season of blossoms almost a new life to 
ourselves."* 

III. The properties of external bodies which produce these 

* Vol. i. p. 449. 



126 FIRST CLASS OF SENSATIONS. 

sensations, are generally denominated odors ; the term, how- 
ever, when used in reference to properties, conveys no definite 
idea. Minute particles, called effluvia, are thrown off from cer- 
tain bodies, which are said, on that account, to be odoriferous. 
These particles, as it has been imagined, repel each other, and 
so become widely diffused in the atmosphere ; and, by being 
drawn into the nostrils along with the air, produce the sensa- 
tions of which we have spoken. And as the effluvia is thus 
scattered in the air, " there is manifest appearance of design," 
says Dr. Reid, " in placing the organ of smell in the inside of 
that canal, through which the air is continually passing in inspi- 
ration and expiration." 

That the sensation of smell is actually produced by effluvia 
thus emitted by the odoriferous body, is not a mere hypothe- 
sis ; it is capable of direct proof. In some cases we see the 
particles (as of snuff) from which the sensation results ; and in 
others there can be no doubt that effluvia is thrown off, and ex- 
cites the sensation. Cover a rose, for instance, with a glass 
receiver, and no sensation of smell will be experienced. The 
glass is impervious to the particles of matter which the rose 
throws off; hence it can no longer be perceived by this sense. 
It appears from this circumstance, that the effluvia of bodies 
must be inferior, in point of minuteness, to the particles of 
light ; yet that they are inconceivably small, is established by 
well-known facts. A grain of musk will diffuse its odor for 
years, without any perceptible diminution of its weight; and a 
box, in which it was once enclosed, although frequently wash- 
ed, will retain the scent of it for years. 

It has been thought by some, that there is no body which 
does not emit this effluvia, though our organs are not suffi- 
ciently delicate to be, in all cases, affected by it. The suppo- 
sition is, to a certain degree, sanctioned by the fact, that blood- 
hounds, &c. are sensible of odors, when we perceive none. 

Some confusion of ideas on this subject has been produced 
by the circumstance that the odor, and the resulting sensation, 
have the same name. Thus the phrase, the smell of a rose, 
designates a certain quality in the rose, and a certain state or 
affection of mind. It will be unnecessary, after the statements 
already made, to guard the reader against supposing, with the 
vulgar, that there is any thing in the rose which resembles the 
sensation ; or, with the sceptical philosopher, that there is 
nothing in the rose to originate the sensation. He will regard 
the odor and the sensation as sustaining the relation of cause 



THE KNOWLEDGE DERIVED FROM THEM. 127 

and effect; but as bearing no more resemblance to each other 
than a blow with a stick, to the pain which results from it.* 

IV. The knowledge which the mind derives from these 
sensations. It will be necessary here to distinguish between 
different periods of our existence, or to state the amount of in- 
formation which is conveyed to us by them at present, and 
that which was communicated by them originally. It is not to 
be doubted that the sensation which results from the action of 
the effluvia of a rose upon the organ, conveys to us now an 
assurance both of the existence and the presence of that 
flower. But was it so originally ? Nothing can be more mani- 
fest than that it ought to have been so, if perception be an 
original power of the mind, like sensation — a power given to 
us for the express purpose of obtaining, through the medium 
of our sensations, a knowledge of external objects, and of 
their properties. In that case, it is certain that the very first 
time we experienced the sensation of which we are speaking, 
we should have been able to say, in the same sense, and with 
as much confidence as now, " I smell a rose." But is it so in 
point of fact? I admit that it is impossible to ascertain, with 
perfect accuracy, what is passing in the mind of the infant 
metaphysician ; but there is no reason whatever to induce the 
opinion, that the knowledge which the sensations of smell 
communicate to us at iwescni, is enjoyed, previously to expe- 
rience, by him : the supposition that it is so, is utterly un- 
likely. There is nothing more in the sensation produced by the 
odor of a rose, to lead to the idea of an external cause, than 
in the feelings of joy or sorrow. " Had we been endowed 
with the sense of smell," says Dr. Brown, "and with no other 
sense whatever, the sensations of this class would have been 
simple feelings of pleasure, or pain, which we should as little 
have ascribed to any external cause, as any of our sponta- 
neous feelings of joy or sorrow." — " As a mere change in the 
form of our being, the sensation of fragrance may suggest to 
us the necessity of some cause, or antecedent of the change. 
But it is far from supposing the necessity of a corporeal 
cause." — " We class our sensations of smell, as sensations, 
because we have previously believed in a system of external 
things," (they do not give us this belief,) " and have found, by 
universal experience, that the introduction of some new exter- 
nal body, either felt or seen by us, was the antecedent of those 
states of mind which we denominate sensations of smell, and 

* Vide, on this subject, Reid's Inquiry, pp. 65, 66. 



128 FIRST CLASS OF SENSATIONS. 

not of those internal pains or pleasures, which we therefore 
distinguish from them, as the spontaneous affections of our 
own independent mind."* 

However strange it may appear, since it is totally inconsis- 
tent with the distinction he attempts to establish between sen- 
sation and perception, it is yet the fact, that Dr. Reid has ex- 
pressed himself, on this point, in terms precisely similar to 
those which are employed by Dr. Brown. ** By the original 
constitution of our nature," says he, in his Inquiry, " we are 
both led to believe that there is a permanent cause of the sen- 
sation, and prompted to seek after it ; and experience deter- 
mines us to place it in the rose." Again, " Let us therefore 
suppose a person beginning to exercise the sense of smelling ; 
a little experience will discover to him, that the nose is the or- 
gan of this sense, and that the air, or something in the air, is a 
medium of it. And finding, by further experience, that when a 
rose is near, he has a certain sensation ; when it is removed, 
the sensation is gone ; he finds " (that is, judges) " a connexion 
in nature between the rose and the sensation. The rose is 
considered as a cause, occasion, or antecedent of the sensation ; 
the sensation is an effect or consequent of the presence of the 
rose ; they are associated in the mind, and constantly found 
conjoined in the imagination."")" How useless a faculty then is 
this imagined power of perception, according to Dr. Reid's 
own statements ! It is given us, as he alledges, for the express 
purpose of discovering the existence and qualities of the bodies 
by which our sensations are produced ; and yet it is not the 
power of perception after all, but the faculty of judgment, en- 
lightened by experience, which leads us to place the cause of 
our sensations, and Dr. Reid himself declares this, in the exter- 
nal bodies from which they flow. 



Class II. — Sensations of Taste. 

1. The organs of this sense are certain nervous papilla?, 
whose principal seat is the surface of the tongue, and especial- 
ly its sides and apex, which constitute a most convenient situa- 
tion for these nerves, inasmuch as by the flexibility of that 
member, they may be easily brought into contact with the sub- 
stance to be tasted. It is probable, also, that similar papillae 

* Vol. i pp. 444-5. 

t Inquiry, p. 75, pp. 67, 63. Vide also Stewart, vol. i. p. 100. 



SENSATIONS OF TASTE. 129 

exist within the substance of the mucous membrane which 
lines the palate, as we find that the sensation of taste is in- 
creased when the sapid body is pressed between the palate and 
the tongue. 

" It is with manifest propriety," says Dr. Reid, "that the or- 
gan of this sense guards the entrance of the alimentary canal, 
as that of smell the entrance of the canal for respiration. And 
from these organs being placed in such manner, that every 
thing that enters into the stomach must undergo the scrutiny 
of both senses, it is plain that they were intended by nature to 
distinguish wholesome food from that which is noxious. The 
brutes have no other means of choosing their food ; nor would 
mankind, in the savage state. And it is very probable that the 
smell and taste, no way vitiated by luxury or bad habits, would 
rarely, if ever, lead us to a wrong choice of food among the 
productions of nature."* Dr. Brown thinks, on the contrary, 
that there is no reason to suppose that the senses teach us what 
is wholesome and noxious primarily, and of themselves ; 
though in the circumstances in which man is brought up, having 
no necessity to appeal to the mere discrimination of his own 
independent organs, he admits, with some little appearance of 
self-contradiction, that it is not easy to say how far his primary 
instincts, — if it had not been the high and inevitable dignity of 
his nature to rise above them, — -might, of themselves, have 
operated as directors. " But whatever their primary influence 
may be, the secondary influence of his organs of taste and 
smell," he adds, " are not less important. When we have once 
completely learned what substances are noxious, and what are 
salutary, we then, however similar they may be in their other 
sensible qualities, discriminate these as often as they are again 
presented to us, by that taste, or smell, which they affect with 
different sensations ; and our acquired knowledge has thus ul- 
timately, in guiding our choice, the force and vivacity of an 
original instinct. "j" 

II. With the nature of the sensations received by means of 
this sense, we are well acquainted ; though, as in the case of 
smell, they admit neither of definition nor of description. A ce- 
lebrated naturalist has endeavored to show that at least sixteen 
different simple tastes exist. These admit, however, of an al- 
most boundless number of modifications, from their different 
combinations — their various degrees of intensity and weakness 
— the quickness or slowness with which they arise on the con- 

* Inquiry, p 82. t Vol. i. pp. 451-2. 

12 



130 class it. 

tact of the nerve and the sapid body — the time of their conti- 
nuance — and the different parts of the organ which they prin- 
cipally affect. 

It is an excellent observation of Dr. Reid, that " nature 
seems studiously to have set bounds to the pleasures and pains 
we have by the senses of smell and of taste, and to have con- 
fined them within very narrow limits, that we might not place 
any part of our happiness in them, there being hardly any smell 
or taste so disagreeable that use will not make it tolerable, and 
at last, perhaps, agreeable ; nor any so agreeable, as not to lose 
its relish by constant use. Neither is there any pleasure or pain 
of these senses which is not introduced, or followed, by some 
degree of its contrary, which nearly balances it. So that we 
may here apply the beautiful allegory of Socrates ; that although 
pleasure and pain are contrary in their nature, and their faces 
look different ways, yet Jupiter hath tied them so together, that 
he that lays hold of the one, draws the other along with it."* 

These statements of Dr. Reid afford an easy explanation o 
what are called acquired tastes. 

III. The properties of external bodies which produce these 
sensations are called flavors ; but what they are in themselves 
we know not. Dr. Reid thinks it probable that every thing that 
affects the taste is soluble in the saliva. " It is not conceivable," 
he says, " how any thing should enter readily, and of its own 
accord, as it were, into the pores of the tongue, palate, and fau- 
ces, unless it had some chemical affinity to that liquor with 
which these pores are always replete. It is, therefore," he 
adds, " an admirable contrivance of nature, that the organs of 
taste should always be moist with a liquor which is so univer- 
sal a menstruum." 

IV. With regard to the knowledge which the mind derives 
from these sensations, similar remarks may be made with those 
which were suggested in reference to the sensations of smell ; 
it is unnecessary to repeat them. Suffice it to say, with Dr. 
Brown, that " though, in our present state of knowledge, we 
immediately refer them to something which is bitter, or 
sweet, or acrid, or of some other denomination of sapid quality, 
and we have no hesitation in classing them as sensations — 
not as feelings, which arise in the mind, from its own inde- 
pendent constitution; yet if we attend sufficiently to the feel- 
ing which arises in the case of taste, we shall find, however im- 
mediate the reference to a sapid body may be, that it is truly 

* Inquiry, p. 84. 



SENSATIONS OF HEARING. 131 

successive to the simple sensation, and is the mere suggestion 
of former experience, when a body previously recognized by 
us as an external substance, was applied to our organ of taste 
— in the same manner as when we see ashes and dying embers, 
we immediately infer some previous combustion which we 
could not have inferred if combustion itself had been a phaeno- 
raeria altogether unknown to us."* 



Class III. — Sensations of Hearing, 

I. The organs. These consist, in man, of the external ear, 
or auricle, and an internal bony cavity, with numerous circular 
and winding passages, formed within the temporal bone. These 
two distinct parts are separated by a strong transparent mem- 
brane, stretched across the passage, called the tympanum, or 
drum of the ear. By this membrane the vibrations of the air 
are received from the external ear, and are transmitted through 
the canals or passages called the labyrinth, to the auditory 
nerve, which is formed into a beautiful expansion, not unlike 
the expansion of the optic nerve on the retina. The auditory 
nerve conveys the impression to the brain, and the immediate 
result is, 

II. The sensation of hearing, the nature of which is known 
to all who are not destitute of the faculty itself. The prodigious 
variety of this class of sensations is not less apparent than in the 
case of those which have been already considered. The ear, 
we are told, is " capable of distinguishing four or five hundred 
variations of tone in sound, and probably as many different de- 
grees of strength ; by combining these we have above twenty 
thousand simple sounds, that differ in tone, or in strength, sup- 
posing every tone to be perfect." The same writer, however, 
justly observes, that the same tone is " susceptible of a bound- 
less variety of modifications. A flute, a violin, a hautboy, and 
a French horn, may all sound the same tone, and be easily dis- 
tinguishable ; nay, if twenty human voices sound the same note, 
there will still be some difference. And even the same voice, 
while it retains its proper distinctions, may be varied many 
ways, by sickness or health, youth or age, leanness or fatness, 
good or bad humor."f 

The value of this sense will appear when it is recollected, 
that to it we are indirectly indebthd for the existence of verbal 

* Vol. i pp. 446-7. f Vide Reid'.s Inquiry, p. 89. 



132 CLASS in.- 

language ; the importance of which, whether we consider it as 
the medium of the reciprocal expression of present feelings in 
the domestic circle, or reflect upon the benefit which it yields 
to man as an intellectual and a moral being, must be regarded 
as incalculable. 

III. The cause of these sensations, is the air thrown into a 
tremulous, or vibratory state, by the motion of a sonorous 
body ; or by any other means, by which this wave-like motion 
can be produced. -When elastic bodies are struck, a vibratory 
motion is imparted to the bodies themselves, and communica- 
ted by them to the surrounding atmosphere. Every one has 
observed the concentric circles which are formed in a pool of 
water by the action of a stone thrown into it. It is proba- 
ble that similar circles, or waves of air, are produced by the 
causes mentioned above ; and, if the ear be situated within 
the reach of these circles, a sensation of sound will be produ- 
ced, vivid in proportion to the density of the wave, or vibration. 

IY. The knowledge which is derived through the medium 
of this sense is obviously not original and instinctive; when, 
at least, we throw out of our view the sensations themselves. 
We judge at present, and generally with tolerable accuracy, 
of the distance of the sonorous body, and of the direction in 
which it lies ; but the sense of hearing originally gives us no 
information on these points. All this is admitted by Dr. Reid 
himself. " That such a noise is in the street, such another in 
the room above me ; that this is a knock at my door ; that, a 
person walking up stairs, — is probably learned by experience. 
Previous to experience, we should as little know whether a 
sound came from the right or left, from above or below, from a 
great or a small distance ; as we should know whether it was 
the sound of a drum, or a bell, or a cart. Nature," he adds, 
" is frugal in her operations, and will not be at the expense of 
a particular instinct, to give us that knowledge which experi- 
ence will soon produce, by means of a general principle of 
human nature."* 

We need not hesitate to proceed a step beyond Dr. Reid, 
and to say, that the sensations of sound would not have sug- 
gested to us the notion of any thing external to the mind. " In 
hearing," says Dr. Brown, " as in taste and smell, we do not 
derive from its sensations our knowledge of things external ; 
but, in consequence of our knowledge of things external, we re- 
gard these feelings as sensations, in the common philosophic 

* Inquiry, p. SO. 



SENSATIONS OF TOUCH. 13§ 

meaning of the term."* Mr. Stewart even acknowledges that 
the sense of hearing gives us no knowledge of any thing with- 
out us. " By means of the senses of hearing and smelling 
we never could have arrived," he says, " at the knowledge of 
the existence of things external. All that we could possibly 
have inferred from our occasional sensations of smell and 
sound would have been, that there existed some unknown 
cause by which they were produced."! Mr. Stewart should 
then tell us, what perception, by the sense of smell, is. Ac* 
cording to his own statements, there is originally none. If we 
can ever be said to perceive by this sense, we do it, on his 
principles, as the result of experience ; that is, we learn to 
perceive. And what is the difference, in point of absurdity, 
between the two assertions — if perception be an original power 
of the mind — " we learn to perceive," and " we learn to feel 1" 

How then, it may be asked, do we learn to judge of dis- 
tance, direction, &c. ? The answer is, that there are original 
diversities in the sensations received by this organ, correspond- 
ing with the magnitude, direction, distance, &c. of the sonor- 
ous body ; a little experience will, consequently, enable us to 
form a judgment concerning its size, the quarter from whence 
it proceeds, &c. ; which judgment is susceptible, through 
practice, of indefinite improvement. 

It is this sense which renders us capable of the pleasures of 
harmony ; though there is a peculiarity connected with what 
is called a musical ear, for some excellent remarks upon 
which, the reader is referred to Dr. Brown, Yol. i. p. 469- 
48L 

Class IV. — Sensations of Touch. 

I. The organ. A broad line of distinction exists between 
the sense of touch and those which have been previously con* 
sidered in reference' to the organ. In tasting and smelling 
the organ is one ; and even in hearing, there is merely a du- 
plicate ; and the organs of these senses occupy particular situ- 
ations in the body; but the sense, or rather the organ of 
touch, is diffused all over the surface of the body. The ner- 
vous papillae of the skin appear to be the inlets of that class of 
sensations which are now to be considered. 

It has been thought by some, that there is naturally greater 
delicacy, or sensitiveness, in those nerves which are distri- 

* Vol. i. p. 453. j Vol. i. p. 100, 

12* 



134 CLASS IV. 

buted to the hands and fingers, than has been imparted to any 
others. The opinion, however, rests on no solid ground. Our 
sensations of touch, when the object comes in contact with the 
hands and fingers, are doubtless now more distinct than when 
it touches any other part of the body. That circumstance is, 
however, to be ascribed to the frequent exercise of the hands 
and fingers, in consequence of the position they occupy in the 
system ; by which exercise, increased delicacy, according to 
a law of our physical constitution, is obtained. Had it been as 
convenient to employ the toe as the hand, when it became ne- 
cessary to examine any object by the sense of touch — and had 
the toe been employed for that purpose — there is no reason to 
doubt that the toe would have become as sensitive as the 
finger. 

II. The sensations, &c. I shall very briefly refer to these, 
together with the qualities from which, as it is thought, they 
result ; and then proceed to the remaining topic of inquiry 
concerning this sense ; as it appears to be the plan best adapt- 
ed for exhibiting the great and important difference of opinion 
which exists amongst philosophers in relation to this most 
difficult part of mental science. Referring to the other senses, 
Dr. Reid says, " they exhibit only one kind of sensation, and 
thereby indicate only one quality in bodies. By the ear we 
perceive sounds, and nothing else ; by the palate, tastes ; by 
the nose, odors ;" and, we may add, by the eye, colors. 
" These qualities," continues Dr. Reid, "are all likewise of 
one order, being all secondary qualities :" we have seen that 
there is no perception by the nose, the palate, or the ear : 
" whereas by touch we perceive not one quality only, but 
many, and those of very different kinds."* 

Dr. Reid refers here to the different qualities perceived, (i. 
c. as he supposed) by the sense of touch, to show that the sen- 
sations received by it, as the medium, are greatly more diver- 
sified than those of any other sense. And even when we have 
thrown out of our consideration those which Dr. Brown with- 
draws from this sense, it cannot be doubted that they differ 
more generically from each other than any of the sensations of 
smell, or hearing, or taste, or sight. 

III. The qualities of external bodies to which we owe, ac- 
cording to Dr. Reid, these sensations, are, first, heat and cold. 
The latter is now regarded by philosophers as the mere nega- 
tion, or absence of heat. Opinion has considerably varied with 

* Inquiry, p. 99. 



SENSATIONS OF TOUCH. 135 

regard to the true nature of heat, considered as a quality, or a 
cause of sensation. It was formerly thought to consist in a 
certain vibration of the particles of the heated body. Of late 
years it has been regarded as a fluid generally diffused through 
nature, and accumulated in the heated body. This is a ques- 
tion belonging to physical science, with which we have no con- 
cern. 

In addition to heat and cold, Dr. Reid specifies hardness 
and softness, roughness and smoothness, figure, solidity, mo- 
tion, and extension, as qualities which act upon our sense of 
touch. In examining the correctness of this doctrine, it will be 
well to avail ourselves of the statements of Dr. Brown, who 
has made, we think, a successful effort to resolve the whole of 
the qualities thus enumerated into different modifications of re- 
sistance and extension. " Hardness and softness," says he, 
" are expressive only of greater or less resistance ; roughness 
is irregularity of resistance, when there are intervals between 
the points that resist, or when some of these points project be- 
yond others " (that is, it is — as Mr. Welsh shows, in a most 
ingenious attempt to resolve all the properties of bodies into 
attraction and repulsion — the particular position of the parti- 
cles of substances, occasioned by their (natural) affinities and 
repulsions;) "smoothness is complete uniformity of resist- 
ance; liquidity, viscidity, are expressive of certain degrees of 
yieldingness to our efforts, which solidity excludes, unless 
when the effort employed is violent." " All, in short," he adds, 
" are only different species, or degrees, of that which we term 
resistance, whatever it may be, which impedes our continued 
effort, and impedes it variously, as the substances without are 
themselves various." With regard to the other qualities men- 
tioned by Dr. Pieid, he thus writes : — " Figure is the boundary 
of extension, as magnitude is that which it comprehends ; and 
divisibility, if we consider the apparent continuity of the parts 
which we divide, is only extension under another name. If we 
except motion, therefore, which is not permanent, but acci- 
dental, — and the knowledge of which is evidently secondary 
to the knowledge which we acquire of Our organs of sense, 
before which the objects are said to move — and secondary in 
a much more important sense, as resulting, not from any di- 
rect immediate organic state of one particular moment, but 
from a comparison of sensations past and present — all the in- 
formation which we are supposed to receive primarily and 
directly from touch, relates to modifications of resistance and 
extension.* 

* Vol. i. pp. 487-8. 



136 CLASS IV. 

All the sensations then which these qualities, or any others, 
which act upon the organs of touch produce, may be included 
under sensations of heat and cold ; of puncture and laceration ; 
of hardness and extension. 

IV. The knowledge which these sensations convey. The 
terms heat and cold, denote both the sensation and the quality. 
The former, as Dr. Reid says, is perfectly known ; it neither 
is, nor can be, any thing else than it is felt to be. The cause 
of the sensation, or the quality, is unknown. Whatever be the 
nature of that quality of bodies which we call heat, he elsewhere 
tells us, it cannot in the least degree resemble the sensation of 
heat. To suppose a resemblance, he assures us, would be as 
absurd [as to imagine that the pain of the gout resembles a 
square or a triangle. He admits also further, that even in 
adult age it is only known relatively, i. e. as the unknown ex- 
ternal cause of a certain well-known sensation. When, there- 
fore, we say, " I perceive that the body is hot," what can be 
meant more than that it gives us the sensation of heat ? Yet, 
on Dr. Reid's principles, it must imply something more. It is 
manifest, however, that even this knowledge, imperfect as it is, 
is more than we derive from the sensation originally. Inde- 
pendently of all others, it would merely suggest the idea of a 
cause, not of a cause ad extra. It is unnecessary to repeat 
remarks which have been made with reference to the other 
senses. " It is quite evident," says Dr. Brown, u that in class- 
ing] our warmth or dullness as a sensation, and not as a feel- 
ing that has arisen spontaneously in the mind, we are influenced 
by that experience which has previously given us the belief of 
things external, at least of our own corporeal frame ; and that, 
if we had been unsusceptible of any other sensations than those 
of heat and cold, we should as little have believed them to 
arise directly from a corporeal cause, as any of our feelings of 
joy or sorrow."* 

Similar remarks may be made with reference to the sensa- 
tions resulting from puncture and laceration. Even at present, 
as we had occasion to observe formerly, they do not invariably 
apprise us of the particular part of the body injured ; and, origi- 
nally, they would have given us no conception even of the 
existence of the body. 

There are, however, as it is generally imagined at least, 
other sensations, — the sensations of hardness and extension, 
received by means of this sense, and which give us, of them- 

♦ P.487. tkf/js 



SENSATIONS OF TOUCH. 137 

selves, and originally, the knowledge of matter, and of its pri- 
mary qualities. Indeed, Dr. Reid expressly assures us, that 
by the writers who had preceded him, it had been " always 
taken for granted that the ideas of hardness, extension, figure, 
and motion, enter into the mind by the sense of touch, in the 
same manner as the sensations of sound and smell do by the 
ear and nose."* This error is too flagrant to need any length- 
ened refutation. There is an essential difference between a 
sensation and an idea or a notion. And no one now, I imagine, 
believes that an idea, or a notion, is in any case the direct re- 
sult of the action of an external body upon an organ of sense. 
That action produces a sensation — and a sensation only : the 
sensation may become the immediate antecedent to an idea, in 
no respect resembling itself, or we may form a notion of the 
sensation after it has subsided ; but the idea or notion must 
not be transformed into a sensation, by being represented 
as flowing directly from a certain impression upon an organ 
of sense. 

Dr. Reid has very carefully distinguished between the sen- 
sations of hardness, extension, &c. which, as he conceives, are 
received by the sense of touch ; and the notions, to which, as 
he further conceives, they give rise. " There is," says he, " no 
doubt, a sensation by which we perceive a body to be hard or 
soft. This sensation of hardness," he adds, " may easily be 
had, by pressing one's hand against the table, and attending 
to the feeling that ensues, setting aside, as much as possible, 
all thought of the table and its qualities, or of any external 
thing." And, having stated the difficulty of attending to this 
sensation, he proceeds to declare that a philosopher must van- 
quish it, or that it will be impossible for him to reason justly 
upon the subject.")" 

The foregoing quotation is given for the sole purpose of 
showing that Dr. Reid did not regard our notions of hardness 
and resistance as constituting, if we may so speak, sensations 
of touch. In this we think he was right. His error, as we 
imagine, consisted in regarding, what he calls sensations of 
hardness and extension, as sensations of touch, — and so, in 
making our conception and belief of an external world, to 
arise, by a law of our nature, out of the feelings proper to this 
sense. 

Dr. Brown, on the contrary, considers the feelings of hard- 
ness, or, in other words, of resistance, as radically different 

* Inquiry, p. 121. f Inquiry, p. 105. 



138 CLASS IV. 

from the proper sensations of touch ; and as originating from 
another source, viz. from the muscular frame, which is not, he 
says, " merely a part of the living machinery of motion, but is 
also truly an organ of sense." 

His statements on this subject deserve our most particular 
attention, and are in substance as follows. He commences 
with the important remark, that the sense of touch must have 
a sensation peculiar to itself. Of this it does not seem possi- 
ble to doubt. In the case of any of the senses which have 
been considered, it may beeome a question, what degree of 
knowledge we gain by means of the feelings which are peculiar 
to each ; but that smell has its peculiar feelings, and hearing 
and taste, in like manner, all, it is imagined, will admit. It is 
the same with regard to the sense of touch. There is a certain 
state of mind which is the invariable consequent of the contact 
of an external substance and any part of the body ; in the same 
manner as there is a certain state of mind connected, origi- 
nally, with the impression which the odor of a rose, for in- 
stance, makes upon the olfactory nerves. The question then 
is, What is this state of mind ? We have already seen, 
that it is not the notion or belief of hardness and extension. 
Dr. Reid thinks it is the sensation or feeling of hardness and 
extension, out of which arises, he supposes, by intuition, the 
conception and belief of an external world. Dr. Brown denies 
that even the feeling of hardness is the proper sensation of 
touch ; and, to ascertain what are the simple original feelings 
of this sense, he says, " Let us imagine a being endowed with 
the sense of touch, and with every other sense and faculty of 
the mind, but not with any previous knowledge of his own cor- 
poreal frame, or of other things external ; and let us suppose a 
small body of any shape to be pressed, for the first time, on 
his open hand. Whatever feeling mere touch can give of itself, 
would of course be the same in this case as now" Now what 
would this feeling be ? Would it be the sensation of hardness 
and extension 1 No ; that arises, at any rate the sensation of 
hardness arises, when we afterwards attempt to grasp the 
body, and the muscular effort is impeded ; a feeling which, as 
every one may judge, is essentially different from that which 
results from the mere application of the same body to the open 
palm. " When I move my arm," says Dr. Brown, " without 
resistance, I am conscious of a certain feeling ; when the mo- 
tion is impeded by the presence of an external body, I am 
conscious of a different feeling, arising partly, indeed, from 
the mere sense of touch in the moving limb compressed, but 



SENSATIONS OF TOUCH. 139 

not consisting merely in this impression, since, when the same 
pressure is made by a foreign force, without any muscular 
effort on my part, my general feeling is very different."* 

The proper sensation of touch is not then the feeling of 
hardness, extension, &c. as Dr. Reid imagines, since that 
feeling is not produced by mere contact. It arises only when 
muscular effort is impeded ; and is, therefore, to be ascribed 
to the muscular frame. Mr. Welsh has very accurately dis- 
tinguished between the simple original feelings of touch, and 
others which succeed it. " The tactual feeling," says he, 
u upon the pressure of a foreign substance, is one species of 
mental state ; the muscular sensation, upon having an accus- 
tomed movement impeded, is another ; the notion of an exter- 
nal quality, as extension or figure, is a third ; and is as easily 
distinguished from the second as the first.""]- 

This distinction between the proper feelings of touch, and 
the muscular feelings, is of immense importance when we at- 
tempt to estimate the amount of information concerning ex- 
ternal things, which is derived from this sense. Smelling, 
tasting, and hearing, it is admitted on all hands, could give us 
no notion of any thing out of ourselves. Is then the proper 
sensation of touch — the feeling which is produced by mere 
contact, when there is no impeded muscular exertion — better 
adapted to originate it ? I feel compelled to answer this ques- 
tion in the negative. The sense of touch does not appear to 
me more able to originate the notion of an external world, 
than the sense of smell. It is impossible for any one to exhibit 
this sentiment in a more luminous point of view, than Dr. 
Reid, how much soever his statements may be at variance 
with other parts of his system ; I therefore quote his words. 
Having represented the case of a blind man, who has lost all 
the knowledge he had gained by the sense of touch, and who 
is in fact destitute of all knowlege, he says, "We shall first 
suppose his body fixed immovably in one place, and that he 
can only have the feelings of touch, by the application of other 
bodies to it. Suppose him first to be pricked with a pin ; this 
will no doubt give him a smart sensation — he feels pain — but 
what can he infer from it ? Nothing sure with regard to the 
existence or figure of a pin." — " Having had formerly no no- 
tion of body, or of extension, the prick of a pin can give him 
none." 

" Suppose next, a body not pointed, but blunt, is applied to 

* Vol. i. p. 501. f Memoirs, p. 249. 



140 CLASS IV. 

his body with a force gradually increased until it bruises him. 
What has he got by this but another sensation, or train of sen- 
sations, from whence he is able to conclude as little as from 
the former." 

' Suppose further, that the body applied to him touches a 
larger or lesser part of his body. Can this give him any no- 
tion of its extension or dimensions ? To me it seems impos- 
sible that it should, unless he had some previous notice of the 
dimensions and figure of his own body to serve him as a 
measure." 

The Doctor proceeds in the same way to show, that a body 
drawn along his hands, or his face, while they are at rest — or 
an effort to move, or the actual movement of any limb, would 
give him no notion of space or motion. And he concludes his 
statement with the following memorable words : " Upon the 
whole, it appears that our philosophers have imposed upon 
themselves, and upon us, in pretending to deduce from sensa- 
tion, the first origin of our notions of external existences, of 
space, motion, and extension, and all the primary qualities of 
bodies, that is, the qualities whereof we have the most clear and 
distinct conception."* 

Now, if our knowledge even of the primary qualities is not 
deduced from sensation, how could the Doctor affirm after- 
wards, as he does, that it is " the business of the senses to 
make us feel, and to make us perceive V i. e. in other words, 
that it is the business of the senses to put us in possession of 
knowledge which cannot, after all, be deduced from sensation ! 

In opposition to this reasoning, designed to show that the 
mere sensations of touch can give us, of themselves, no more 
knowledge of resistance and extension — to which, as we have 
seen, all the primary qualities, as they are called, may be re- 
duced — than those of smell, taste, &c. it will be said, perhaps, 
that we now appear, at any rate, to perceive these qualities by 
the sense of touch — to feel a body to be hard, large or small, 
round or square. This is freely admitted ; it does not, however, 
follow from this, that the sense of touch of itself, originally, 
gives us any notion either of hardness or extension. We now 
seem to perceive the distance of bodies by the eye, but the case 
recorded by Cheselden proves, beyond all doubt, that our 
knowledge of distance is gained by an act of judgment, not of 
perception. It appears impossible, in the very nature of 
things, that the mere sense of touch should give us the no- 

|* Vide Inquiry, p. 126-129. 



SENSATIONS OF TOUCH. 141 

tion of hardness. There must exist, on any system, the sen- 
sation of hardness, i. e. the feeling of resistance, in order to 
the existence of the notion of hardness. But the sensation of 
hardness, or the feeling of resistance, cannot exist where there 
is no resistance ; i. e. it cannot arise from mere contact. There 
must be impeded muscular effort, in order to the rise of the feel- 
ing of resistance ; and the notion of hardness arises out of this 
latter feeling ; if, indeed, it be any thing else than a notion of 
the feeling of resistance, or of the sensation of hardness itself. 

Nor is it less manifest, it is imagined, that the notion of ex- 
tension is not conveyed to the mind by the sense of touch. The 
argument by which the affirmation has been supported, must 
have had its origin in the dark ages ; it cannot endure the light 
of the present day. It is as follows. The object which im- 
presses the organ of touch, covers a portion of that organ cor- 
responding exactly in size with itself; we must therefore per- 
ceive by touch, the size and form, the roundness or squareness 
of the body. Against this argument there lie the following 
objections : 

First, it supposes the knowledge of the existence of the 
body; i. e. it supposes the knowledge of an external world, — 
for the body is as much external to the mind, as is the sun in 
the firmament ; in other words, it presupposes the possession 
of that knowledge which the sense of touch was given us, ac- 
cording to these notions, for the express purpose of obtaining. 
The statement we are now considering, most strangely forgets 
that the infant metaphysician knows no more that he has a body, 
than that he is surrounded by forms of inimitable beauty. To 
gain this knowledge is the precise difficulty. This first step 
being taken, all the subsequent ones are perfectly easy and in- 
telligible ; now our opponents generously leave us to take this 
first step in the best way we can. 

Secondly, it would not account for the perception of exten- 
sion by the sense of touch, even if this difficulty, with reference 
to the existence of the body, were surmounted ; for as Dr. 
Brown justly observes, "It is not in our organ of touch merely, 
that a certain extent of the nervous extremity of our sensorial 
organ is affected. This occurs equally in every other organ. 
In the superficial expansion of the nerves of hearing, smell, 
taste, for example, it is not a point merely that is affected, but 
a number of continuous points precisely as in the superficial or- 
gan of touch ; and if, therefore, the notion of extension in ge- 
neral, or of figure, which is limited extension, arose whenever a 
portion of the nervous expansion was affected in any way, we 

13 



142 r CLASS IV. 

should derive these notions as much from a taste, or a smelf,- 
or a sound, as from any of the configurations or affections of 
our organs of touch," — i. e. " we should have square inches, 
and half inches T of fragrance and sound."* 

Thirdly r it is contradicted by fact ; for, in innumerable cases, 
the more sense of touch does not enable us to judge of form. 
If a body, in ever so slight a degree irregular m form, is press- 
ed^upon any part of our tactual organ, we find ourselves una- 
ble, even after all the experience we have had with regard to 
objects of touch, to determine with precision, without using 
the organ of sight, its magnitude and figure. The knowledge of 
form and extension is not then gained by the sense of touch ; 
u for if touch were truly the direct and primary sense of mag- 
nitude and form r as hearing is the sense of sound, it should be 
equally the sense of every variety of these, as hearing is the 
sense of every variety of sound." If there be a single case in 
which touch fails to give us the knowledge of form, magnitude, 
extension, &c. we may certainly gather from that fact, that the 
sense of touch is incapable of itself of imparting this knowledge,, 
so that wherever it exists, it must be traced to a different 
source. | 

The amount of what has been said may be thus stated. 
Touch must have its peculiar sensation, as well as the senses 
of taste y hearing, &c. ; i. e. there is a certain state of mind 
which is the direcl result of the contact of an external body 
with any part of the animal frame — that state of mind is not 
the notion of hardness and extension ; i. e. it is not the notion 
and belief of an external world — it is not even the sensation of 
hardness or the feeling of resistance, — it is merely, in all cases, 
the kind of feeling which is produced by the pressure of a body 
upon the open palm — a feeling essentially different from the 
sensation of hardness or the feeling of resistance. Impeded 
muscular effort alone can give rise to this latter feeling, out of 
which grows the notion of an external world ; so that touch 
merely suggests the hardness and figure of bodies, in conse- 
quence of associations formed between bodies of different forms 
and degrees of solidity, and the tactual feelings which result 
from contact with them — in the same manner as different sen- 
sations of vision suggest the distances of bodies. 

There still remains for our consideration the important 
question, " In what manner do the conception and belief of 

* Vol. i. pp. 505-6. 

t Vide Brown, vol. i. pp. 508-9, 545-6. 



SENSATIONS OF TOUCH. 143 

things external arise out of impeded muscular effort, or the 
feeling of resistance ? Is it by intuition connected with this 
feeling, or may the fact be otherwise explained ?" Dr. Brown 
contends that our faith in the existence of things without the 
mind does not rest upon any peculiar intuition ; that it is to be 
traced to 4 ' that more general intuition by which we consider a 
new consequent, in any series of accustomed events, as a sign 
of a new antecedent, and b$ that equally general principle of 
association, by which feelings that have frequently co-existed 
flow together, and constitute afterwards one complex whole."* 

My limits will not allow me to give even the substance of 
the statements by which this opinion is defended.")" They dis- 
play, to great advantage, the unrivalled talents of the writer ; 
but I am constrained to say, that I cannot regard them as per- 
fectly satisfactory. On this most difficult subject I am rather 
disposed to agree with those who ascribe our belief in the 
existence of an external world to a peculiar intUftfmi. A body 
comes in contact with the palm of the hand — the fingers close 
upon it — they instinctively press it — the feeling of resistance is 
experienced ; and that feeling, by a law of the mind, instantly 
suggests the notion of something external, and, antecedently 
to all experience, is referred to it as its cause. There is nothing 
in the mere tactual feeling, as we have seen, which appears 
adapted to originate the idea of any thing external. Nor <loes 
the muscular feeling seem to me more likely to awaken it. It 
is a mere sensation, which will indeed lead to the conception 
of a cause, but which no more involves the notion of an external 
cause, than the fragrance of the violet or the rose. 

I am happy to find the sentiments of Mr. Welsh in harmony 
with the statements given above. " By the muscular feelings," 
says this writer, " we could not have the idea of outness ; for, 
in the case supposed, the little reasoner has not arrived at the 
knowledge of his own organ of sensation, as something ex- 
tended, and capable of resistance.^' — " Without the idea of one 
material object, we have no foundation for arriving at the idea 
of any other. And as the idea of one such object must be taken 
for granted in every theory of the origin of our notions of other 
material existences, it seems to follow that this idea, at least, 
must be ascribed to some primitive law of our nature. "J 

* Vol. i. p. 503. 

t If it should not too much increase the size of this volume, I will giv.e 
the substance in a note at the end. 
t Memoirs, pp. 247-8. 



144 CLASS V. 

The intuitive belief for which we plead goes no further, it is 
however imagined, than to the bare existence of something ex- 
ternal to us. The magnitude, form, &c. of bodies are learned, 
we think, by experience ; and the tactual feeling, being always 
associated with the muscular feeling, inasmuch as we must 
touch what we grasp, suggests at length, though it did not do 
it originally, the notion of hardness, or of a resisting, extended, 
and external mass. 

And if the belief of an external world is founded on intuition, 
we cannot fail to perceive the absurdity of all attempts either 
to support or to overthrow it, by an effort of reasoning. To 
reason in defence of any proposition, is to attempt to show 
that it rests upon some self-evident truth — on a truth, i. e. 
which we are led by our nature, or rather, by that God who 
formed it, to believe as soon as the terms in which it is express- 
ed are understood. When we have shown that any proposi- 
tion does ***rest upon a self-evident truth, we have proved it ; 
to proceed further is impossible. No self-evident proposition 
then can be proved ; it yields proof to others, but can itself 
derive it from none. And, on the other hand, to reason against 
an intuitive truth, is an act of absurdity or madness. No argu- 
ments can be brought against it, but such as professedly derive 
their validity from a truth of the same order with that which is 
assailed. If, therefore, the proposition attacked could be con- 
ceived to be weak, the weapons of attack must be equally 
weak, and so cannot overthrow it. It is impossible to prove 
by argument the existence of an external world, for the same 
reason that we cannot prove two and two to be equal to four ; 
or the whole greater than a part. And the man who should 
undertake to overthrow, by argument, our established belief 
on this subject, would prove nothing but his own folly or 
insanity. 

Class V. — Sensations of Sight* 

This is by far the most important of our senses. It furnishes 
us with information so essential, as well as valuable, that if 
the race of man had been incapable of acquiring it, the very 
possibility of their continued existence seems scarcely con- 
ceivable. Dr. Reid has admirably illustrated the incompara- 
ble value of this sense, by supposing a world of human beings 
destitute of it. " How incredible," says he, " would it appear 
to such beings, accustomed only to the slow informations of 
touch, that, by the addition of an organ, consisting of a ball and 



SENSATIONS OF SIGHT. 14§ 

socket, of an inch diameter, they might be enabled in an instant 
of time, without changing their place, to perceive the disposr- 
Hon of a whole army, the order of a battle, the figure of a mag- 
nificent palace, or all the variety of a landscape — to traverse 
the globe itself ; yea, to measure the planetary orbs, and make 
discoveries in the sphere of the fixed stars."* No sense ex- 
hibits, in so striking and delightful a manner, the infinite wis- 
dom and unbounded goodness of the Creator. 

I. The organ, or the eye, is situated in a circular orbit, and 
composed of transparent substances, called humors, of various 
refractive densities ; viz. the aqueous, crystalline, and vitreous 
humors. The first refraction takes place on the surface of what 
is called the convex cornea of the eye, which receives the rays 
of light, converges and transmits them to the aqueous humor, 
a transparent fluid situated between the cornea and the crys- 
talline humor. The pupil, or perforation in the centre of the 
iris, admits of the transmission of the rays from the aqueous 
humor to the crystalline lens ; by which they are again refracted, 
and transmitted to the vitreous humor, in which is placed the 
retina,, or net-like expansion of the optic nerve. After the rays 
of light have undergone these several refractions, they produce 
upon the retina a distinct image of the object from which they 
are reflected ; and, according to the degree of perfection with 
which this image is formed, will the perception, by means of 
this sensitive power, be clear and distinct. 

In reference to the organ thus briefly described, it has been 
well said, " that it is a machine of such exquisite and obvious 
adaptation to the effects produced by it, as to be, of itself, in 
demonstrating the existence of the Divine Being who contrived 
it, equal in force to many volumes of theology. The atheist 
who has seen and studied its internal structure, and yet con- 
tinues an atheist, may be fairly considered as beyond the power 
of mere argument to reclaim." "Were there no example in 
the world of contrivance except that of the eye," says Dr. Pa- 
ley, " it would be alone sufficient to support the conclusion 
which we draw from it, as to the necessity and existence of an 
intelligent Creator. Its coats and humors, constructed as the 
lenses of a telescope are constructed, for the refraction of the 
rays of light to a point, which forms the proper action of the 
organ — the provision, in its muscular tendons, for turning its 
pupil to the object, similar to that which is given to the tele- 
scope by screws, and upon which power of direction in the eye, 

♦ Inquiry, p. 154. 
13* 



146 . CLASS V. 

the exercise of its office, as an optical instrument, depends — 
the further provision for its defence, for its constant lubricity 
and moisture, which we see in its socket and its lids, in its 
gland for the secretion of the matter of tears, its outlet, or com- 
munication with the nose, for carrying off the liquid after the 
eye is washed with it ; — these provisions compose altogether 
an apparatus, a system of parts, a preparation of means, so 
manifest in their design, so exquisite in their contrivance, so 
successful in their issue, so precious and so infinitely benefi- 
cial in their use, as, in my opinion, to bear down all doubt that 
can be raised upon the subject."* 

It is perfectly unnecessary to say any thing with respect to 
the sensations of sight, in distinction from the knowledge which 
the mind obtains through the medium of this sense. 

II. The exciting causes of these sensations are generally 
said to be colors. But what are colors'? They are produced, 
we are told, by rays of light falling upon bodies which possess 
the power of refraction and reflection. It is manifest, however, 
that this answer leaves the subject in all its original obscurity. 
It does not tell us hoiv they are produced, or ichere they are 
produced — whether they are actual qualities in the bodies them- 
selves, or mere sensations of the mind which contemplates 
them. " The philosophical idea of colors," says Dr. Watts, 
" is to consider them to be nothing but sensations excited in 
the mind by the variously refracted rays of light reflected on 
the eye in a different manner, according to the different size 
or shape of the particles of which the surfaces of these bodies 
are composed ; and to suppose them in the bodies themselves, 
is the vulgar error, "f 

Sir Isaac Newton says, more correctly, that " colored bodies 
derive their color not from the bodies themselves, but from 
the particular properties they possess, of reflecting some rays 
very abundantly, and of transmitting, or absorbing others." 
This distinguished writer had discovered that light consists of 
rays of different colors, and of different degrees of refrangibili- 
ty — so that by suffering it to pass through a prism, by which 
the rays are refracted or bent out of the line of direction in 
which they entered the prism in different degrees, we obtain a 
series of colors, proceeding by regular gradation from red to 
violet. Bodies which reflect the red rays, appear red to us ; 
bodies which reflect the violet-colored rays, appear of a violet 

* Nat. Theol. pp. 81, 82. Vide also p. 19-32. 
t Logic, Part I. chap. iii. sect. 4. 



SENSATIONS OF SIGHT. 147 

color to us, &c. &c. How it happens that some bodies reflect 
one kind of rays, and others another kind, we know not. It 
may result from a particular modification of the principles of 
attraction and repulsion ; or it may be the result of some other 
principal of which we are totally ignorant. And though there 
must be some difference in the rays which excite different sen- 
sations — in the red and violet rays for instance — we can form 
no conception of the nature of that difference. It is obvious, 
however, that there can be nothing in those bodies which appear 
red, and nothing in the red rays themselves, which bears the 
most distant resemblance to our sensations of redness. To 
suppose this, would be as absurd as to conceive of pain in the 
point of a sword. 

The preceding statement proceeds on the supposition that 
light is the object — the exclusive object of vision. Dr. Reid 
and Mr. Stewart tell us, that some objects of sense operate di- 
rectly, and others indirectly, upon our organs. In the case of 
sight, for instance, they imagine that it is the distant object 
which acts upon the organ ; but that its action is carried on 
through the medium of light. Dr. Brown, on the other hand, 
states, more justly, as it appears to me, that it is the light which 
acts upon the organ, and constitutes the object of the sense of 
sight. The following passage seems fully to confirm his opi- 
nion : " It is of importance to remember, that even in the per- 
ception of the most distant body, the true object of vision is not 
the distant body itself, but the light that has reached the expan- 
sive termination of the optic nerve. If the light could exist in 
the same manner, moving in the same varieties of direction as 
at present, though no other bodies were in existence than the 
light itself and our sensorial organ, — all the sensations of mere 
sight would be the same as now ; and accordingly we find, as 
light is in a great measure manageable by us, that we have it 
in our power to vary, at pleasure, the visual notions which any 
one would otherwise have formed of bodies, without altering 
the bodies themselves, or even their position with respect to 
the eye, — by merely interposing substances to modify the light 
reflected or emitted from them. The same paper which we 
term white when we observe it with our naked eye, seems 
blue or red, when we look at it through glass of such a kind 
as absorbs all the light which enters it but the rays of those 
particular colors ; and it seems larger or smaller as we look at 
it through a concave or a convex lens, which leaves the object 
precisely as it was, and affects only the direction of the rays 
which come from it ; the reason of all which diversities of per- 



148 CLASS v» 

ception is, that though what we are accustomed to term the ob* 
ject continues the same, whatever substance be interposed be* 
tween it and the eye, that which is really the object of vision 
is different ; and our perceptions, therefore, correspond with 
the diversity of their real objects."* 

IV. The knowledge which is derived from the sensations of 
sight. At present this sense is the inlet to innumerable feelings. 
On opening our eyes, we perceive the magnitude, distance, fi- 
gure, and relative position of bodies, as well as their color. Or, 
if this be rather an act of judgment, or a suggestion of memory, 
the result of experience and association, it takes place so in- 
stantaneously, that we find it scarcely possible to conceive of 
a time when the eyes might have been opened without putting 
us in possession of all the information which the sense of sight 
now conveys. 

Since the days of Berkeley, however, philosophers, with 
scarcely any exception, have admitted that the knowledge 
of the distance, magnitude, and real figure of objects, is the 
result of information gained by the other senses — that it may 
be truly said we learn to see — and that vision is what Swift 
has paradoxically denominated it, " the art of seeing things 
that are invisible." The only point in controversy, at present, 
appears to be whether we gain directly, by the sense of sight, 
the knowledge of color merely, or of extension in addition to 
color, i. e. the knowledge of the length and breadth of bodies. 

Before we proceed to make any remarks upon this ques- 
tion, it will be proper to advert, for a moment, to the reasons 
which led Berkeley, and all who have written upon the sub- 
ject since his time, to refuse their assent to the opinion of pre- 
ceding philosophers, that the knowledge of the distance, mag- 
nitude, and figure of bodies, is immediately received by sight. 

The evidence of fact is against this opinion. The celebrated 
Cheselden performed the operation of couching, upon an adult; 
when it was found that as soon as the organ began to perform 
its functions, all objects, at whatever distances, appeared to 
touch the eye. And whenever a similar operation has been 
performed, since his time, it has been found, we are told by 
the most competent judges, that "the actual magnitude, dis- 
tance, figure, and position of objects, were to be learned, like 
a new language — that all objects seemed equally close to the 
eye — and that a sphere, and a cube, of each of which the tan- 
gible figure was previously known, were not so distinguishable 

* Vol. ii. pp. 61, 62. 



SENSATIONS OF SIGHT. 149 

in the mere sensation of vision, that the one could be said with 
certainty to be the cube, and the other the sphere." 

The obvious inability of children to measure distances and 
magnitudes, is nearly, if not altogether, as conclusive on this 
point, as the cases to which we have referred. Whatever 
knowledge the sense of sight can in itself convey, must be ob- 
tained with the first exercise of the sense : whoever, there- 
fore, has seen (and who has not seen r) an infant stretch out 
its little hands to grasp the moon, must be convinced that the 
knowledge of distance, &c. is not derived from this source. 

There, are, also, considerations which render it, a priori, im- 
probable that this knowledge is received by the sense of sight. 
Had it been observed that it is light which constitutes the 
true object of vision, and not the luminous body itself, the 
opinion, now opposed, could not have maintained its ground 
so long. For, " from whatever distance light may come, it is," 
says Dr. Brown, " but the point of the long line, which termi- 
nates at the retina, of which we are sensible, and this termi- 
nating point must be the same, whether the ray has come from 
a few feet of distance, or from many miles,"* " The rays, 
from distant objects, when they produce vision, are as near to 
the retina, as the rays from objects which are contiguous to 
the eye." How, therefore, should these rays suggest the no- 
tion of unequal distances, unless they do it by intuition ? — a 
notion directly contradicted by the facts to which we have re- 
ferred ; for if the knowledge of distance were instinctive, it 
would exist in infancy (as appears to be the case among ani- 
mals) as well as in maturity ; and would, further, be imme- 
diate in those who have acquired the power of vision by the 
surgical operation to which reference has been made. 

But if distance is not the direct object of sight, like color, 
and if the perception of distance is not instinctive, how is it ac- 
quired 1 It has been usual to suppose that objects appear to us 
distant, or near, according to the angle which lines proceeding 
from their boundaries or extremities subtend upon the eye of 
the beholder. The reply of Dr. Brown to this statement is ir- 
resistible. He says, in substance, that all men are not instinc- 
tively geometers, and employed in measuring angles, — that 
these angles have no real existence, as feelings of the mind of 
the individual who sees, — and, finally, that it is impossible for 
the mind to have any knowledge of them. They are formed 
by rays of light proceeding from different bodies, and meeting 

Vol. ii. pp. 66, 67. 



150 CLASS V. 

in one focal point at the retina. The angles, therefore, cannot 
be known, unless the radiant lines, formed by the rays, are 
known ; and how is it possible, in harmony with preceding 
statements, to conceive that they are known? The distant body 
from which they proceed, is not the object of vision — the rays, 
in their progress from it, are not the objects of vision ; the point 
of light which comes in contact with the retina, and this point 
of light alone, is the object of vision. " Before the rays reach 
the optic nerve, they are," says Dr. Brown, " as little capable 
of producing vision as darkness itself;" (as little capable, we 
may add, as is the fragrance of a rose of producing sensation 
before it reaches the nostril ;) " and when they reach the 
retina, the lines, and consequently the angles, exist no more."* 

Our knowledge of distance, &c. is not, then, derived from the 
angles which rays of light subtend upon the eye ; for, in addition 
to what has been already said, these angles must be the same, 
whether the body be viewed on land or across an expanse of wa- 
ter; yet the apparent distance will be very different. This single 
fact would prove, were there no evidence, that the knowledge of 
which we are speaking, is a result of the principle of association. 
There is, doubtless, an original diversity in the sensations pro- 
duced by light (for we must ever bear it in mind that it is by 
light that the sensations of vision are produced) which proceeds 
from one body at a distance, and from another which is near ; 
it is then perfectly easy to see how these sensations may be- 
come, or rather must become, signs of the distance of objects. 
They suggest the notions of nearness, or distance, in the same 
manner precisely with sounds. In fact, it is only as the result 
of association that we come to know from what bodies the 
light which beams upon our eye is reflected. Light, as we 
have said, is the only object of vision. It is not the tree, or the 
house, which stands before us, that we see, but light merely of 
different kinds and shades of color. In the same manner how- 
ever, as words become associated with things, so as to suggest 
them, do the sensations of color suggest the bodies from which 
they are reflected. 

But if our perceptions of distance, magnitude, &c. &c. 
should be allowed to be acquired, is not the perception of ex- 
tension, or of the length and breadth of objects, or rather of 
color, involved in the sensations of sight themselves] All 
philosophers, previous to the time of Dr. Brown, have replied 
to this question in the affirmative. Dr. Reid maintains that 

* Vol. ii, p; 78. 



SENSATIONS OF SIGHT. 151 

there is a figure which bodies present to the eye — a figure 
which involves length and breadth ; (or, in other words, that, 
in the original perceptions of this sense, we see not merely 
color, but expanded color ;) but is essentially different from the 
tangible figure, or the figure which is perceived by the sense 
of touch, and which is, in fact, the true figure ; — that upon this 
visible figure experience effects no change, it being the same 
to an infant, or to a man newly made to see, as to us ; — that 
these visible appearances are disregarded by us, nature de- 
signing them as signs of the tangible figures of bodies, which 
they suggest, though not intuitively ; for though these signs, as 
he calls them, present the same appearance to a man newly 
made to see, as to us, yet he would have no knowledge of their 
signification, whereas to us they constitute a language perfectly 
familiar, and therefore we take no notice of the signs, and at- 
tend only to the thing signified by them.* 

In support of this opinion, Dr. Reid refers to the art of paint- 
ing ; a proficient in which art, by the different size and shad- 
ing he gives to the objects which he represents, can exhibit 
them as solid or circular, or distant or near, as well as extend- 
ed ; i. e. as Dr. Reid thinks, he can transfer to the canvas the 
precise appearance which they present to the eye, so that the 
painting suggests to the mind the same ideas which the scene 
in nature which it represents would have done. 

Dr. Brown, on the other hand, denies that extension is in- 
volved in our original perceptions of sight. We see light or 
color only, he thinks, not an expanse of color, or color of a 
certain length or breadth. The color now appears to be figur- 
ed, i. e. extended, only in consequence of being blended, by in- 
timate associations, with the feelings commonly ascribed to 
touch. He admits that, in our present sensations of sight, it is 
impossible for us to separate extension from color ; or that ob- 
jects necessarily appear to us long and broad ; but he main- 
tains that this extension of length and breadth is not the exten- 
sion of the figure called visible, but of the tangible figure ; that 
the only figure which does seem to us combined in vision with 
color, is that which philosophers call tangible. And, in reply 
to the argument, or the supposed argument, in support of the 
notion that extension constitutes an ingredient in our original 
perceptions of sight, derived from the fact, that there is a cer- 
tain figure, or length and breadth of the retina, upon which the 
light falls, he says, " this is admitted; but the question is not 

* Inquiry, pp. 169-70. 



152 CLASS V. 

whether such a figure exists, but whether the perception of the 
figure necessarily forms a part of the sensation. A certain ex- 
tent of nervous expanse is affected when sensation, through the 
medium of the other senses, is excited : of the olfactory nerves, 
for instance. We do not, however, connect extension with our 
sensations of smell on this account ; we have not yards or 
inches of fragrance. Why then should extension, for this rea- 
son, accompany the sensation of color ?" 

The reader will form his own judgment upon this difficult 
question. I feel scarcely prepared to express an opinion. 
Some things it seems necessary to concede to Dr. Brown. 
In the first place, that our present inability to separate exten- 
sion from color — or, in other words, that the fact that objects 
now appear to us long and broad — does not prove that it was 
originally so ; because they now appear at different distances 
from us, though it has been proved that they seemed origin- 
ally in contact with the eye. Our perception of extension, 
therefore, may be acquired. Secondly, it must, I imagine, be 
conceded to Dr. Brown, and for the reasons assigned by him, 
that the perception of extension is not necessarily involved in 
our original sensations of sight because a certain expanse of 
the retina is acted upon when vision is produced. But I am 
constrained to acknowledge, that he appears to me to involve 
the subject in some perplexity, by supposing, as he does, that 
there can be no visible figure of objects, unless the figure on 
the retina is perceived. Now I certainly am not aware that 
any philosopher conceives that the visible figure which, as he 
imagines, bodies present to the eye, is the figure which they 
form upon the retina. If that were the case, how could bodies 
appear larger than the retina ? The question is, whether color, 
when first perceived by the eye, is not seen to be expanded — 
to be long and broad — or of a certain figure — a figure of 
larger or smaller dimensions, according to the extent of the 
retina affected, but not the very figure formed upon it 1 And, 
further, whether this figure, or apparent magnitude, does not 
become, by association, a sign of the real or tangible magni- 
tude of bodies ? It is essential to the support of Dr. Brown's 
system to maintain, as he does, that the figure or magnitude, 
which he allows it is now impossible to separate from color, is 
the tangible, i. e. the real figure or magnitude. I cannot, how- 
ever, but doubt the accuracy of this statement. The pane of 
glass in the window, near to which I sit, appears thousands of 
times longer and broader than another pane, of the same size, 
in the opposite house ; yea, abundantly larger than the house 



SENSATIONS OF SIGHT. 153 

itself. Is the apparent magnitude of the latter the tangible 
magnitude ? How can it be supposed ? Further, if the figure 
which we cannot separate from color, be the tangible figure ; 
i. e. a figure including the dimensions of length, breadth, and 
thickness ; how would it be possible to represent it upon a 
flat surface ? If objects really appear thick, as well as broad 
and long, which Dr. Brown supposes, it would seem to me to 
follow, that we cannot form pictures of them, because thick- 
ness cannot be drawn upon canvas. If, on the contrary, all 
that we really see be certain kinds and shades of color, of dif- 
ferent degrees of length and breadth ; and if the thickness or 
solidity of bodies be a mere suggestion of memory ; then the 
mystery of the art of painting is unravelled. The same pro- 
portionate length, and breadth, and kinds, and shades of 
color, appearing on paper or canvas, will suggest all that the 
scene in nature, which it represents, will suggest — and a 
painting may be mistaken for an actual landscape. Lastly, if 
no extension of length and breadth, varying according to the 
distances of objects, is involved in the original sensations of 
sight, how could the appearance which bodies make to the eye, 
ever come, by experience, to suggest their real magnitude ? 
The brightness, and degradation, and variation in the color of 
objects, at different distances from the eye, afford a basis on 
which experience may erect rules to guide us in judging of 
distances. But if there were no visible extension of length 
and breadth, I am at a loss to conceive how we could ever 
come to judge of their real size. On the contrary, if they have 
apparent magnitude, varying, let it be observed, according to 
their distances, and not remaining the same, as Dr. Brown 
represents, at all distances, (and that they have, we have 
surely only to open our eyes to be convinced,) all difficulty is 
at once removed. The apparent size suggests by experience 
the real size ; in the same way as difference of color suggests 
difference of distance. 

There is one statement by Dr. Brown on this subject, which 
appears to me at variance with his own sentiments. " The 
magnitude," he says, " which we connect with color, in any 
case, is the magnitude which we term tangible, — a magni- 
tude," he adds, " that does not depend on the diameter of the 
retina, but is variously greater or less, depending only on the 
magnitude and distance of the external object."* Now, as the 
tangible, i. e. the real magnitude of bodies is incapable of 

* Vol. ii. p. 89. 
14 



154 INTERNAL AFFECTIONS. 

change — as it does not depend upon, or vary with, their dis- 
tance, I am unable to attach any meaning to these words ; un- 
less one which recognizes the very distinction which he endea- 
vors to disprove. 



DIVISION II. 

INCLUDING THE INTERNAL AFFECTIONS OF THE MIND* 

The class of feelings which have passed under our revie\v r 
are the result of the laws both of matter and of mind. They 
necessarily suppose that, in the latter, there exist certain sus- 
ceptibilities of receiving impressions from without; and that 
there are, in the former, certain properties, or qualities,- adapt- 
ed to develop them. The external affections then depend, as 
Dr. Brown has well said, as much upon external things as 
upon the mind itself. They require for their existence the pre- 
sence and influence of something external to the mind — a cir- 
cumstance which explains, and perhaps sufficiently justifies, the 
term by which this incomparable writer has designated them. 

The class of affections we now proceed to consider, com- 
prehends those which depend upon the independent constitu- 
tion of the mind itself; which do not directly, at least, depend 
upon the body ; which have for their immediate antecedents, not 
impressions made upon the organs of sense, or the brain, but 
previous feelings or states of the mind itself. Before we pro- 
ceed to classify these affections, it may be of use to offer a few 
remarks in proof of their existence, and in illustration of their 
vast importance. 

It may be desirable to show, in thejirsl place, that we have 
such affections ; for in consequence of prevailing misconcep- 
tions of the meaning of such terms as causation, mental action, 
&c. a difficulty is apt to be experienced, in conceiving that one 
state, or affection of mind, can be immediately followed, with- 
out the interposition of any other agency, by another state, or 
affection of mind. How can a state of mind, in which the mind 
is said to be passive, become the cause of some other state ? 
How can mind thus act upon itself? To some, this appears to 
involve greater difficulty than the connexion between matter 
and mind. In the latter case, the statement of preceding philo- 



PROOF THAT THEY EXIST. 155 

sophers, incredible as it may appear, has seemed to them to 
lessen the difficulty. An impression, such is the statement, is 
made upon an organ of sense — the mind, which is gifted with 
active power, attends to the impression — and so becomes sen- 
sible of the presence of something external ; somewhat in the 
same way, we presume, as we are apprised of the presence of 
a beggar when he knocks at the door ! It is wonderful that such 
learned trifling should, for so long a period, have been mistaken 
for sound philosophy ! 

It is difficult to see how these notions can be applied to the 
rise of our internal affections. One of these affections cannot 
knock, so to speak, at the door of the mind, and so arouse its 
slumbering attention ; or if it did, it could only, we should think, 
direct its attention to itself, and not awaken a totally different 
affection. It is impossible for the old philosophy to explain how 
one affection of the mind produces another affection. But if we 
entertain those notions of causation — of mental or material 
xiction, which have been advocated in the preceding part of this 
work, we shall not think that there is any thing peculiarly mys- 
terious in the matter. All we know of the external affections is, 
that a certain state of mind invariably follows a certain state of 
matter ; all we know of the internal affections is, that a certain 
state of mind is subsequent to another state of mind. The 
amount of our knowledge is, in each case, the same ; it is the 
fact, and the fact exclusively. That the consequent follows the 
antecedent, in both cases, must be resolved into Divine appoint- 
ment. Now it is surely as easy to conceive that the constitu- 
tion of the mind is such that one state of mind should be con- 
nected with nnother state of mind, as that a certain mental af- 
fection should, in like manner, be connected with a certain im- 
pression upon the body — a substance that is external to itself, 
and radically different from it. 

There is, then, no a priori objection against the supposition 
that we have internal -(in the sense in which the word has been 
explained) as well as external affections ; or, in other words, 
that such is the constitution of the mind, that some of its affec- 
tions immediately and invariably precede, and so are, in the 
only intelligible sense of the words, the causes of other affec- 
tions. The Divine Contriver of our mental frame, to adopt the 
language of Dr. Brown, with a slight variation, who formed the 
soul to exist in certain states, on the presence of external 
things, could also easily form it to exist in certain successive 
states without the presence, or direct influence of any thing ex- 
ternal; the one state of the mind being as immediately the 



156 INTERNAL AFFECTIONS. 

cause of the state of mind which follows it, as, in our external 
feelings, the change produced in our corporeal organ of sense, 
is the cause of any one of the particular affections of that 
class.* 

All this, however, does not prove that we have such affec- 
tions. Certainly not ; but is the existence of such a class of 
affections to be doubted ? Does not the sensation of hunger 
produce a desire of food? Does not the perception of danger 
excite fear? Does not the sight of a friend awaken joy? Dr. 
Brown has illustrated this subject in a manner so felicitous — 
so admirably adapted to fix an indelible impression upon the 
mind, of the sentiments he aims to convey, that though the 
passage is long, I shall easily be excused for quoting it. 
" Suppose ourselves, in walking across a lawn, to turn our 
eyes to a particular point, an<i to perceive there an oak. That 
is to say, the presence of the oak, or rather of the light reflect- 
ed from it, occasions a certain new state of mind, which we 
call a sensation of vision; an affection which belongs to the 
mind alone, indeed, but of which we have every reason to sup- 
pose that the mind of itself, without the presence of light, 
would not have been the subject. The peculiar sensation, 
therefore, is the result of the presence of the light reflected 
from the oak ; and we perceive it, because the mind is capable 
of being affected by external things. But this affection of the 
mind, which has an external object for its immediate cause, is 
not the only mental change which takes place. Other changes 
succeed it, without any other external impression. We com- 
pare the oak with some other tree which we have seen before, 
and are struck with its superior magnificence and beauty ; we 
imagine how some scene more familiar to us would appear, if 
it were adorned with this tree, and how the scene before us 
would appear if it were stripped of it ; we think of the number 
of years which must have passed since the oak was an acorn; 
and we moralize, perhaps, on the changes which have taken 
place in the little history of ourselves and our friends,, and still 
more on the revolutions of kingdoms, and the birth and decay 
of a whole generation of mankind, while it has been silently 
and regularly advancing to maturity through the sunshine and 
the storm. Of all the variety of states of mind which these pro- 
cesses of thought involve, the only one which can be ascribed 
to an external object as its direct cause, is the primary percep- 
tion of the oak ; the rest have been the result, not immediately 

* Vol. ii. pp. 153-4. 



THEIR GREAT IMPORTANCE. 157 

of any thing external, but of preceding states of the mind ; 
that particular mental state which constituted the perception 
of the oak, being followed immediately by that different state 
which constituted the comparison of the two ; and so succes- 
sively, through all the different processes of thought enume- 
rated. The mind, indeed, could not, without the presence of 
the oak, that is to say, without the presence of the light which 
the oak reflects, have existed in the state which constituted 
the perception of the oak. But as little could any external ob- 
ject, without this primary mental affection, have produced im- 
mediately any of those other states of the mind which followed 
the perception. There is thus one obvious distinction of the 
mental phenomena ; as in relation to their causes, external or 
internal ; and whatever other terms of subdivision it may be 
necessary to employ, we have, at least, one boundary, and 
know what it is we mean, when we speak of the external and 
internal affections of the mind."* 

In the second ^lace, it will be proper to illustrate their vast 
importance. The susceptibilities which are indicated by them, 
enlarge, to an incredible degree, our capacities of enjoyment. 
All our bodily senses, indeed, are inlets of pleasure. They 
may doubtless become sources of pain : but they were not 
given to afflict and torment us. The benevolent intention of 
the heavenly donor is apparent. The loss of any single sense 
would be the drying up of a source of boundless gratification. 
But the affections, upon the consideration of which we are now 
to enter, are peculiarly valuable in this point of view, on ac- 
count of their immense number ; since by far the greater part 
of our feelings are those which arise from our internal succes- 
sions of thought. Innumerable as our perceptions appear, they 
form but an inconsiderable part of the varied consciousness of 
a day. A single sensation may originate a countless train of 
feelings, each of them more precious to the mind through 
which they pass in rapid succession, than the wealth of the 
Indies. An impression made upon one of the bodily organs, 
may lead us back to the scenes of childhood and youth — may 
cause us to live over again, so to speak, the hours of enjoy- 
ment we have spent in days which have long since passed 
away — and awaken the most delightful anticipations of that 
futurity into which nothing but the eye of fancy, and imagina- 
tion, and faith, is permitted to enter. And if, in the backward 
vision of events, scenes should start into view which distress, 

* Vol. i.. pp. 368-370. 

14* 



158 INTERNAL AFFECTIONS. 

rather than delight us, let us not forget that this is not to be 
ascribed to the constitution of our minds, but to that sad prone- 
ness to evil which carried us from the path of duty, and so 
forces bitterness out of the source of consolation itself. 

Further, our susceptibilities of internal affection elevate us 
greatly in the scale of being. To them we are indebted for 
our superiority over the irrational creation. In all that regards 
mere sensation, we are certainly not raised above brutes, and 
are, indeed, in some respects, unquestionably inferior to them. 
Destitute of the class of internal affections, we should be mere 
brutes, or rather more depressed in the scale of being ; for, 
limited as their powers are, they have manifestly more than 
mere sensation. They have memory, if not judgment, in an 
inferior and a stationary degree. We must, then, seek for that 
cause which elevates the mind of man, physically considered, 
to a nearer equality with angelic nature, than the mind of the 
brute sustains, in those high and noble faculties which consti- 
tute, according to our arrangement, the second general division 
of its powers. To raise our estimate of the value of these 
powers, let us endeavor to form a conception of the state to 
which we should -be reduced were we to be deprived of memo- 
ry, and the power of marking resemblances, &c. In that case, 
all science would become extinct ; for science, as we had oc- 
casion formerly to observe, consists in classification, which re- 
quires a power of recognizing resemblances. Our existence 
would, in fact, be confined to the present moment. Our minds 
would resemble a mirror, as Dr. Brown observes, from which 
the images of passing objects perish as they arc hurried forwards 
by others, — with this difference only, that the mind would be 
conscious of the presence of the image while it remained, 
which the mirror is not. But, constituted as we are at present, 
the knowledge which we acquire from without, lives within us ; 
and, in the very darkness of midnight, can create again, so to 
speak, that very world which is hidden from our view. Our 
internal affections enable us to live in the past and the future, 
and render those objects which are to form and discipline our 
minds, and prepare them for a higher sphere of duty and of en- 
joyment, for ever present with us. They serve to weave, so to 
speak, all our thoughts and feelings into one harmonious whole. 
•* If," says Dr. Brown, '' we had the power of external sense 
only, life would be as passive as the most unconnected dream; 
or rather, far more passive and irregular than the wildest of 
our dreams. Our remembrances, comparisons, our hopes, our 
fears, and all the variety of our thoughts and emotions, give a 



THEIR GREAT IMPORTANCE. 159 

harmony and unity to our general consciousness, which make 
the consciousness of each day a little drama, or a connected 
part of that still greater drama, which is to end only with the 
death of its hero, or rather with the commencement of his glo- 
rious apotheosis."* 

Finally, our susceptibilities of internal affection render the 
mind independent of the body. Against the doctrine of a se- 
parate state, between death and the resurrection — a doctrine 
maintained by all orthodox divines — materialists and infidels 
have been in the habit of objecting, that the mind cannot exist 
without the body, — that it is so dependent upon bodily organi- 
zation, in relation to all its feelings and operations, that it must 
necessarily sink into a state of unconsciousness, or rather of 
non-existence, when the body crumbles into the dust. Now, 
holding fast, as I do, the scriptural sentiment, that " to be ab- 
sent from the body, is to be present with the Lord," I am still 
disposed to concede to the materialist, that of all that class of 
feelings which we have denominated sensations, i. e. of the sen- 
sitive, or external affections, the mind must be deprived by the 
loss of the body. I am well aware that an Omnipotent Being 
could give existence to a creature, susceptible of all the affec- 
tions which now arise, in the mind of man, without the slightest 
connection with any thing material. On the death of the body 
he may, it will be said, impart this susceptibility ; and I have 
no intention to affirm with certainty that he will not do it ; but 
the supposition appears to me in the highest degree improba- 
ble. The bestowment of this supposed susceptibility would in- 
volve a radical change in the physical nature of the human 
mind ; and such a change the Scriptures, I think, do not war- 
rant us to expect. Were it to take place, it would render un- 
necessary, if not undesirable, the redemption of the body from 
the grave. Now the Sacred Writers invariably represent this 
event as the very consummation of the Christian's enjoyment. 
Their statements necessarily imply that the soul suffers loss 
while the body remains a prisoner in the grave. And this loss 
is, I apprehend, the loss of that entire class of affections which 
have come under our review — those feelings of mind of which 
the senses are the inlets — and which, as we have seen, cannot, 
in the present state, be experienced, without that impression 
upon the external organ with which the resulting sensation has 
been connected, by the great Author of our frame, in invariable 
sequence. It is not judicious, I imagine, to contend that the 

* Vol. ii. p. 156. 



160 PHRENOLOGY. 

mind will continue to experience, in a separate state, all the 
feelings of which it is the subject in this world. The indepen- 
dence of the mind upon the body should be sought for in that 
class of feelings which have nothing external and material as 
their cause. 

The bearing of these remarks upon the fashionable system 
of phrenology will be apparent. According to that system, all 
our affections are external affections. They depend upon a cer- 
tain state of the body ; they must accordingly perish with the body. 
** If the mind," says Dr. Brown, in a passage to which I would call 
the particular attention of all who seem to have no apprehension 
that phrenology will ultimately conduct to materialism, " were 
capable of no affections but those which I have termed external, 
it would itself be virtually as mortal as all the mortal things that 
are around it ; since, but for them, as causes of its feelings, it 
could not, in these circumstances of complete dependence, 
have any feelings whatever, and could, therefore, exist only in 
that state of original insensibility which preceded the first sen- 
sation that gave it consciousness of existence. It is, in the 
true sense of immortality of life, immortal, only because it de- 
pends for its feelings, as well as for its mere existence, not on 
the state of perishable things, which are but the atmosphere 
that floats around it, but on its own independent laws ; or at 
least — for the laws of mind, as well as the laws of matter, can 
mean nothing more — depends, for the succession of its feel- 
ings, only on the provident arrangements of that all-foreseeing 
Power, whose will, as it existed at the very moment at which 
it called every thing from nothing, and gave to mind and mat- 
ter their powers and susceptibilities, is thus, consequently, in 
the whole series of effects, from age to age, the eternal legis- 
lation of the universe."* 

* Vol. II. p. 155. 

A sense of duty has led me to make the above remark in reference to 
the system alluded to ; but I have no wish, for the following reasons, to 
enroll myself among the number of its decided and avowed opponents. 
First, because it reckons among its advocates the biographer of Dr. Brown, 
a gentleman of great metaphysical acumen, whose opinions on any sub- 
ject are entitled to much respect, and especially upon a subject to which 
he has probably devoted a considerably greater degree of attention than 
any of his opponents. Secondly, because I am, perhaps, properly speak- 
ing, rather an unbeliever of the doctrine than a rejecter of it : and, thirdly, 
because candor compels me to say that I have been repelled from so care- 
ful an examination of the system as I might have given to it, by what I 
cannot but regard as the vague and unsatisfactory manner in which it is 
exhibited in the writings of one of its principal advocates. Poor phrenology 
has been very unfortunate in its apostle ! Could not the Modern Athens 



MISTAKE OF CONDILLAC. 161 

The internal affections, like the affections of sense, are to be 
analyzed and classified ; and there is more room for analysis 
in the case of this order of our affections, than in that of those 
which have already come under our notice. Our primitive 
sensations cannot be analyzed ; they are perfectly simple 
feelings. We are in danger of confounding them, indeed, with 
states of mind, compounded of the original and simple feeling 
and a certain notion, with which it has become blended by 
intimate association ; and hence there is a necessity for a pro- 
cess of analysis even here. But it is in the class of internal 
affections especially that feelings, bound together in indis- 
soluble union, are in the greatest danger of being mistaken 
for simple states of mind ; and it is consequently here that we 
have the greatest need to institute a rigid process of mental 
analysis. 

In prosecuting our analysis, we shall find need to summon 
all our caution and judgment to our aid. We may err in at- 
tempting to carry the analysis too far, — an error which will 
lead us to aim at forcing into one division, intellectual diversi- 
ties which cannot be made to correspond. Or we may err, on 
the other hand, by not carrying the analysis far enough — an 
error which will cause us to multiply divisions, in classifying 
the phaenomena, without necessity. 

The metaphysicians on the continent have fallen into the 
former mistake. In France, Dr. Brown tells us, all the phae- 
nomena of mind have been, during half a century, regarded 
as sensations, or transformed sensations ; that is to say, as 
sensations variously simplified, or combined. The system of 
Condillac supposes not merely that sensation is the source of 
all our feelings, in the sense of being primary to them, but 
that it essentially constitutes them all, " in the same manner 
as the waters of the fountain are afterwards the very same 
waters which flow along the mead." When two material sub- 
stances chemically combine, and seem to form a third sub- 
stance, unlike either of the former, this third substance, how 
dissimilar soever it may appear, is only the two substances co- 
existing. Condillac suffers this fact to guide his views in 
intellectual science. Two affections of mind are followed by 
a third ; — the perception of a horse, and the perception of a 
cow, by the conception of their resemblance, for instance ; 

supply his place with one who could at any rate state the principles of the 
system with something like philosophical precision ? I am constrained 
to think that the present leader had better beware of metaphysics. 



162 NOT RESOLVABLE INTO SENSATION. 

and, therefore, this third affection — the conception, or feeling 
of their resemblance — is the two former affections, as Condil- 
lac imagines, co-existing or transformed, [n a most masterly 
manner Dr. Brown has shown that the analogy which has 
misled Condillac is delusive ; as, indeed, the greater part of 
such analogies must necessarily be. He exhibits the radical 
error committed by him — the error of supposing that when he 
has shown the circumstances in which any mental affection 
arises, he has shown this affection to be essentially the same 
with the circumstances which produced it. He states very 
justly, that, if we refer the decision to consciousness, we must 
at once admit that the feeling of resemblance, in the case re- 
ferred to above, is essentially different from the previous acts 
of perception which originated it ; and he adds, " It is not, 
therefore, as being susceptible of mere sensation, but as being 
susceptible of more than mere sensation, that the mind is able 
to compare its sensations icith one another." This act of com- 
parison, if we call it a mental act, requires for its performance 
a distinct and separate power. 

In addition to Dr. Brown's able argument, the case of 
brutes may be appealed to, in support of the preceding state- 
ment. They have sensation, and in all that regards mere 
sensation, they are, as we have seen, probably not less per- 
fect, at any rate, than man. They ought, therefore, according 
to the French system, to be able to perceive resemblances, 
and so to classify ; that is, they ought to be as capable of 
science as man himself. This, however, as we are well aware, 
is contrary to fact. The internal affections cannot then be 
resolved into sensation. 

Some of the Scotch metaphysicians appear to have fallen 
into the opposite error. They have multiplied powers to an 
unprecedented degree; and against this error, as it appears 
to me, we ought to be especially on our guard. We may stop 
the process of analysis too soon, that is, before we have arriv- 
ed at the elements of our varied thoughts and feelings ; but 
we cannot carry the process too far, if we pause when we 
reach the elements themselves. It is conceded at once, in- 
deed, that — since intellectual elements do not, any more than 
material elements, exhibit in themselves any distinguishing 
marks that they are such — we may at times waste our labor 
on that which does not admit of further decomposition. But 
how are we to know that it will admit of no further decompo- 
sition, till we make an attempt to analyze, and make it with- 
out success? Who complains of excessive analysis in physi- 



IMPORTANCE OF ANALYZING THEM. 163 

cal science 1 The case of the ancients, who admitted of only 
four elements, and the case of the alchemists, who contended 
that there is but one — to both of which Dr. Brown refers — • 
are not in point ; because their statements proceeded not on 
the ground of examination and analysis, but of conjecture 
merely. Let us not, in like manner, complain of intellectual 
analysis, to what extent soever it may be carried, while the 
results of that analysis are carefully examined. It becomes 
us to guard, I apprehend, against excessive simplification in 
the science of mind, not by refusing, as Dr. Reid and Mr. 
Stewart have done, to put our feelings and states of mind 
generally into the intellectual crucible, but by resolving not to 
be imposed upon by any thing which it may be pretended 
comes out of it. We do not bar the attempts of the chemist 
to reduce the present number of apparent material elements ; 
— on the contrary, we applaud them. He is engaged in his 
proper vocation. We merely deem it necessary to exercise 
suitable caution in receiving the announced results of his ex- 
periments. If he assure us that water may be resolved into 
certain gases, we pause, perhaps, in forming a judgment till 
some one has repeated the experiment on which he grounds 
his opinion, or we repeat it ourselves : and when a sufficient 
trial has been made, we give our confidence and support to 
the new doctiine. And even if this second attempt at analy- 
sis should fail to bring satisfaction to our minds — if it should 
furnish reason to suppose that the original experimenter was 
mistaken — we should not censure the efforts he had made to 
unfold the secrets of the material world, unless it appeared, on 
examination, that those efforts had been unwisely or ignorantly 
directed. 

Similar remarks, as it appears to me, may be made with re- 
gard to the analysis of mind, its powers and operations. No 
discoveries will be made in intellectual science, if no disco- 
veries are expected and attempted — if nearly the whole of the 
mental phenomena are at once, with little or no examination, 
to be regarded as the results of intuition, or of certain original 
powers, concerning which nothing further can be said, than 
that they are primitive laws of mind. Speculation and analysis 
should, it is conceived, be encouraged ; but we ought to re- 
ceive their pretended results with great caution. If the French 
metaphysicians, for example, declare that all our feelings may 
be resolved into sensations, let us appeal to consciousness. Let 
us examine, by its aid, whether the affection, which, as they as- 
sure us, is compound, does really involve the elements of which 



164 CLASSIFICATION OF 

they speak ; whether these elements united, constitute the whole 
of the feeling, or more than the feeling ; and let the testimony 
which consciousness gives upon the subject guide our decision. 

In the present state of mental science, few, it is imagined, 
will be disposed to deny that, perhaps, the chief fault of Dr. 
Reid's generally excellent writings, is the disregard of analysis 
which they display. This distinguished writer has multiplied 
powers to a most unnecessary and unwarrantable extent ; " for 
though," as Dr. Brown has well observed, " in one sense, the 
susceptibilities or powers which the mind possesses, may be 
said to be as numerous as its feelings themselves — there being 
no classes of feelings in the mind, and every feeling implying 
a corresponding susceptibility ; yet when we arrange these dif- 
ferent phenomena in certain classes, it is an error in classifi- 
cation to give a new name to varieties that can be referred to 
other parts of the division already made." 

In our classification of the internal affections, we follow Dr. 
Brown, who divides them into two great orders, " our intellec- 
tual states of mind, and our emotions ;" and, uniting with them 
the order of feelings we have already considered, he thus ad- 
mirably exhibits the distinction which exists betwen them. 
" We have sensations, or perceptions of the objects that affect 
our bodily organs ; these I term the sensitive, or external affec- 
tions of the mind; we remember objects — we imagine them in 
new situations — we compare their relations ; — these mere con- 
ceptions, or notions of objects and their qualities, as elements 
of our general knowledge, are what I have termecl the intellec- 
tual states of the mind ; — we are moved with certain lively feel- 
ings, on the consideration of what we thus perceive, remember, 
imagine or compare — with feelings, for example, of beauty, or 
sublimity, or astonishment, or love, or hate, or hope, or fear ; 
these, and various other vivid feelings analogous to them, are 
our emotions." 

" There is no portion of our consciousness," he adds, 
" which does not appear to me to be included in one or other 
of these three divisions. To know all our sensitive states, all 
our intellectual states, and all our emotions, is to know all the 
states or pha3nomena of the mind."* In reference to this divi- 
sion of the internal affections, I agree with Mr. Welsh, in think- 
ing that no advances in science can supersede it. " Intellec- 
tual states and emotions are felt by us to be generically differ- 
ent, and must always thus be felt." 

* Vol. i. p. 377. 



THE INTERNAL AFFECTIONS. 165 



Order I. 

OF OUR INTERNAL AFFECTIONS, COMPREHENDING OUR 
INTELLECTUAL STATES OF MIND. 

The mental affections thus designated, divide themselves 
into two classes, which it may be proper to illustrate briefly, 
before we proceed to a particular consideration of each. 

It is impossible to examine the mental phenomena without 
perceiving that there are laws by which their succession is re- 
gulated. No one can doubt that there is what we call a train 
of ideas in the mind- — that one thought originates another 
thought, which, in its turn, introduces a third ; so that a line 
of connexion runs through the consciousness of each day, and, 
indeed, through the whole consciousness of life. The first class 
of intellectual states of mind consists then of those simple no- 
tions or conceptions of objects which separately arise out of a 
preceding state of mind, under the guidance of laws to be af- 
terwards considered. 

It is not more certain, however, that one simple conception 
thus introduces another, than that notions of relation arise in 
the mind, when two or more objects are present to its view. 
The mind as irresistibly compares the beings and things to 
which its attention is invited, as it perceives them ; and it must 
be particularly observed, that those notions of relation which 
arise out of this mental comparison of two objects, differ es- 
sentially from the thoughts which are suggested by the contem- 
plation of one object; and so constitute the second class of our 
intellectual states of mind. To the first of these classes Dr. 
Brown has given the name of Simple Suggestions; the second 
he distinguishes by the title Relative Suggestions. These two 
classes of mental affections, let it be further observed, indicate 
the existence of two distinct powers or tendencies of mind ; 
and it is only necessary to suppose that the mind is actually 
possessed of these two powers, to account for the existence of 
the whole of that order of our mental affections which we are 
now to consider. 

I do not altogether approve of the terms by which Dr. Brown 
designates these two classes of our intellectual states, especi- 
ally of the latter. To the word Suggestion, an unusual latitude 
of signification is attached. When the sight of a painting is 
followed by the conception of the painter, it is in perfect har- 
mony with the ordinary use of the term, to say it suggests the 



166 ORDER I. CLASS 1. 

latter idea ; but the perception of a horse, and a sheep, cars 
scarcely be said to suggest the points in which they agree. Dr. 
Brown, however, uses the term Suggest in this connexion, 
merely to intimate that one state of mind immediately follows 
another state. Relative Suggestions are feelings which arise by 
a law of the mind, from the co-existing perception, or concep- 
tion, of two or more objects. Bearing these remarks in mind, 
we need not hesitate to adopt Dr. Brown's phraseology ; and, 
for reasons formerly stated, it is deemed better not to depart 
from it. 

Class I. 

Of the Intellectual States, fyc. viz. Simple Suggestions,, 

Are those states of mind which arise out of preceding states 
of mind, without involving any notion of relation ; or, in other 
words, they are simple conceptions of what has been formerly 
perceived. The sight of a river, for instance, suggests the 
idea of a friend who perished in it many years ago. In this 
ease the recollection of our friend, which is one state of mind, 
is introduced by the perception of the river, which constituted 
the immediately preceding state of mind. And in explanation 
of the fact that the latter state arises out of the former, no other 
reason can be assigned, than that God has so formed the mind 
that certain states are subsequent to certain other states, ac- 
cording to various laws, of the nature and operations of which 
we must derive our knowledge from experience. In illustration 
of this class of our mental states, Mr. Stewart says — " That 
one thought is often suggested to the mind by another ; and 
that the sight of an external object often recalls former oc- 
currences, and revives former feelings, are facts which are 
perfectly familiar, even to those who are least disposed to spe- 
culate concerning the principles of their nature. In passing 
along a road which we have formerly traveled, in the com- 
pany of a friend, the particulars of the conversation in which 
we were then engaged, are frequently suggested to us by the 
objects we meet with. In such a scene, we recollect that a 
particular subject was started ; and, in passing the different 
houses, and plantations, and rivers, the arguments we were 
discussing when we last saw them, recur spontaneously to the 



memory."* 



* Vol. i. pp. 277-8. 



IDEAS SUGGESTED. 167 

To the thoughts which are thus suggested, we give the 
name of Simple Suggestions ; the mental power, in conse- 
quence of the existence of which they arise in the manner de- 
scribed by Mr. Stewart, we denominate Simple Suggestion. 
It will be necessary here to exhibit more fully the nature of the 
power itself; and then to explain the laws by which it operates. 

The phrase, " the association of ideas," was formerly used 
to designate what is meant by simple suggestion. Dr. Reid, 
indeed, thinks it has no claim to be considered an original 
principle, or an ultimate fact in our nature, and resolves it into 
habit. Mr. Stewart, on the contrary, resolves habit, when 
the term is used in reference to mental operations, into asso- 
ciation of ideas, which he regards as a law of our constitution, 
or an original principle. The following reasons lead me to 
reject the phrase, ■" association of ideas," as a proper designa- 
tion of that power, to the influence of which the mental states 
we are now considering ought to be traced. 

First, it is too limited in its application. It supposes that 
nothing but past thoughts can be recalled; whereas it is ma- 
nifest, such at least is the general opinion of philosophers, that 
former feelings are most powerfully revived by the presence of 
objects, the perception of which co-existed with the feelings 
themselves. Which of us could revisit the chamber in which 
we witnessed the dying agonies of a beloved friend, without a 
renewal of our grief? Indeed, Mr. Stewart himself admits 
that the phrase is not unexceptionable. " If it be used," is his 
language, " as it frequently has been, to comprehend those 
laws by which the succession of all our thoughts, and of all 
our mental operations is regulated, the word idea must be un- 
derstood in a sense much more extensive than it is commonly 
employed in." " I would not, therefore," he adds, " be under- 
stood to dispute the advantages which might be derived from 
the introduction of a new phrase, more precise, and more ap- 
plicable to the fact."* 

Secondly, it assumes what is not true ; viz. that the ideas 
which suggest each other must, at some previous period, have 
been present together to the mind, and become united, by 
some process which is not explained, in indissoluble bonds. 
Suggestion is the result, it is imagined, of association. One 
idea brings another into the mind, in a manner somewhat 
similar to that, we presume, in which the last of the chain- 
shot invariably follows, when the first in the train effects an 
entrance. 

* Vol i. pp. 283-4. 



168 CLASS I. IDEAS SUGGESTED, 

Now the whole of this statement is contradicted by con- 
sciousness and fact. We see two objects, it may be, at the 
same time ; we are conscious that we perceive them simulta- 
neously ; but we are not conscious of any bond of union being 
thrown around them, which should render a simultaneous con- 
ception of them, in all future time, necessary. And, in point 
of fact, some ideas often suggest others, which have never co- 
existed previously in the same mind. We have most of us seen 
a giant ; we may also have seen a dwarf; that is, not simulta- 
neously, but at different periods. And yet, in all probability, 
the sight of one would instantly suggest the idea of the other. 
This instance referred to by Dr. Brown, affords most decided 
proof that suggestion is not the result of association, but that it 
must be referred to some other principle. 

Thirdly, it mistakes a particular rule, according to which 
ideas are suggested, for the cause of their suggestion. It is 
doubtless true, that when two objects have been perceived 
simultaneously, the thought of one may be afterwards sug- 
gested to the mind by the presence of the other ; but the ulti- 
mate reason of the suggestion is, that the great Creator of the 
mind has imparted to it a tendency to exist in certain states 
of thought and feeling, after certain other states of thought 
and feeling; or, in other words, he has imparted to one 
thought or feeling, an aptitude to produce a certain other 
thought or feeling. This tendency to exist in certain states, 
after certain other states, is the great general law of the mind, 
as it relates to the power of suggestion. The conception of a 
giant, awakening the conception of a dwarf — the thought of a 
river, bringing to our view the friend who perished in his at- 
tempt to cross it — are individual cases of development of this 
great law. They afford an illustration of two of the rules, — 
the rule of contrast, and of contiguity, — according to which 
the suggesting principle acts ; but they do not exhibit the 
cause of the suggestion. It is not more true, in the latter in- 
stance, than it can be in the former, that the conception of 
one of the objects referred to, suggests the other, because the 
two ideas have been formerly associated. The suggestion takes 
place in both instances, because there is an original tendency 
in the mind to exist in certain states after certain other states 
— a tendency which operates according to certain rules, within 
the circle and influence of which, both the cases of suggestion, 
of which we are now speaking, are found. The general law 
is not that ideas which had been formerly associated will sug- 
gest one another, and for that reason ; but that there is a ten- 



NOT ASSOCIATED. 163 

dency in the mind to the suggestion of relative concept 
tions ; the giant, accordingly, suggests the dwarf, and the 
river the death of our friend, because, in the former instance, 
the two ideas sustain the relation of contrast, and, in the latter, 
the relation of contiguity to each other. 

The tendency to which we now refer, is apt to be regarded 
as mysterious and wonderful ; but, in fact, it is not more won- 
derful that the mind should be formed to exist in relative states, 
after relative states — or that one conception should introduce 
another, in some way related to it — than that it should be so 
constituted as to experience the sensation of vision when the 
rays of light fall upon the retina. However inexplicable the 
former process may be, it is not more inexplicable than the other. 
" It is as little necessary," says Dr. Brown, " to the sugges- 
tion, that there should be any prior union or association of 
ideas, as to vision, that there should be any mysterious con- 
nexion of the organ with light, at some prior period to that in 
which light itself first acted on the organ, and the visual sen* 
sation was its consequence. As soon as the presence of the 
rays of light at the retina has produced a certain affection of the 
sensorium, in that very moment the mind begins to exist in the 
state which constitutes the sensation of color; — as soon as a 
certain perception or conception has arisen, the mind begins to 
exist in the state which constitutes what is said to be some as- 
sociate conception. Any prior connexion, or association, is 
as little necessary in the one of these cases as in the other. 
All that is prior is not any process connecting light with the 
organ, or the conception of a giant with the conception of a 
dwarf, but only certain original susceptibilities of the mind, by 
which it is formed, to have, in the one case, some one of the 
sensations of vision when light is at the retina — in the other 
case, to have, in certain circumstances, the conception of a 
dwarf, as immediately consecutive to that of a giant."* 

The reader must be on his guard against supposing that the 
discussion to which his attention has been called, is a mere dis- 
pute in regard to the best name by which to designate a cer- 
tain power of mind. It supposes, on the contrary, that the 
disputants entertain different views of the nature of the mind. 
There is obviously a broad line of distinction between that 
philosophy, which maintains that no ideas can suggest each 
other which have not been previously associated in the man- 
ner so frequently referred to, — and a system which affirms, on 

* Vol. ii. pp. 344-5. y 

15* 



170 



CLASS I. — THE IMPORTANCE 



the other hand, that the suggestion is the result of a native sus« 
ceptibility of mind, — of an original tendency (to refer to one 
instance in illustration) to exist in that state which we call the 
conception of a giant, after it has existed in that other state, 
which we call the conception of a dwarf. In this instance, it 
is impossible that the suggestion should be the result of pre- 
vious association, since the very first time that the dwarf is 
perceived, after we have become aware of the existence of such 
a being as a giant, the conception of the latter will be awak- 
ened. And, in cases where two ideas had previously co-ex- 
isted, it is absurd to attempt to explain the fact that one sug- 
gests the other, by the supposition that some union was formed 
between them ; since that would be to explain one mystery by 
the introduction of another, — a mode of explanation which has 
unfortunately been too common in mental science. 

This faculty of sugestion is one of the most valuable of the 
mental powers ; the possession of it demands the most fervent 
gratitude to that Great Being who has so richly and mysteri- 
ously endowed the human mind. It is the revealer to us of the 
past; it enables us to look into the future. We are ready to 
imagine, as Dr. Brown justly observes, "that the future memo- 
ry of perception is involved in perception itself," — that the 
mind could not, that is, exist without the remembrance of plea- 
sures formerly enjoyed, or of sorrows long past and long en- 
dured. But we deceive ourselves here. The faculty of sugges- 
tion is not essential to the existence of the mind, how much so- 
ever it may be to its comfort. And without the power of sugges- 
tion we should be destitute of memory, for memory, as we shall 
presently see, is suggestion ; it is thought, springing up after 
thought, in the retrospect of former events, — carrying us back, 
in imagination, to the scenes which it so vividly revives, excit- 
ing a feeble reminiscence of the emotions which those scenes 
themselves awakened, — and thus causing us to live over again 
the whole of our past lives. How precious a gift is this, and 
how mysterious ! A power to look back upon the past, would 
appear to us almost as wonderful as an ability to look forwards 
into the future, were it not that wonder is prevented by its ac- 
tual possession. " When a feeling," says Dr. Brown, u of the 
existence of which consciousness furnishes the only evidence, 
has passed away so completely, that not even the slightest con- 
sciousness of it remains, it would surely, butfor thisexperience," 
or possession, " be more natural to conclude that it had perish- 
ed altogether, than that it should, at the distance of many 
ytars, without any renewal of it, by the external cause which 



OP THE FACULTY OF SUGGESTION. 171 

originally produced it, again start, as it were, of itself, into be- 
ing. To foresee that which has not yet begun to exist, is, in it- 
self, scarcely more unaccountable, than to see, as it were, be- 
fore us what has wholly ceased to exist. The present moment 
is all of which we are conscious, and which can strictly be said 
to have a real existence, in relation to ourselves. That mode 
of time which we call the past, and that other mode of time 
which we call the future, are both equally unexisting ; that the 
knowledge of either should be added to us" — the knowledge 
of the future through the medium of the past — " so as to form 
a part of our present consciousness, is a gift of heaven, most 
beneficial to us, indeed, but most mysterious ; and equally, or 
nearly equally mysterious, whether the unexisting time, of 
which the knowledge is indulged to us, be the future, or the 
past."* 

The faculty of suggestion, then, is an original tendency 
which the Creator of the mind has given to it, to exist in cer- 
tain states, after certain other states. It revives our emotions, 
as well as our ideas ; though we now consider its influence 
only as it is concerned in the introduction of the latter. Such, 
at least, is the doctrine both of Mr. Stewart and of Dr. Brown. 
I would beg to propose it as a question worthy of considera- 
tion, whether the power of suggestion does, in any instance, 
directly revive our emotions. We recollect, indeed, the dying 
pangs of a beloved friend with renewed grief. But the faculty 
of suggestion carries us back, so to speak, into the very cham- 
ber ; it places the whole scene again before us : it revives, that 
is, our former perceptions, or ideas ; — may it not thus only in- 
directly revive our former emotions ? 

But though the mind is so constituted as that certain states 
follow other states, this succession does not take place loosely 
and confusedly. ' : Jlny .feeling does not follow any feeling." 
There is a certain fixed and regular order of sequence, ascer- 
tainable by experience, and by experience alone. And the bu- 
siness of the mental philosopher is to observe this order, and to 
reduce the particular cases of suggestion, to general laws or ten- 
dencies of suggestion ; which general laws, it is, however, most 
carefully to be observed, are not to be regarded as the causes 
of suggestion, but as descriptions of the usual manner in which 
the power of suggestion operates. 

The importance of this fact with reference to suggestion is 
great. •• If past objects and events had been suggested to us 

* Vol. ii. p. 204. 



172 CLASS I. LAWS OF SUGGESTION. 

again, not in that series in which they had formerly occurred^ 
but in endless confusion and irregularity, the knowledge thus 
acquired, however gratifying as a source of mere variety of 
feeling, would avail us little, or rather would be wholly profit- 
less, not merely in our speculative inquiries as philosophers, 
but in the simplest actions of common life. It is quite evident 
that, in this case, we should be altogether unable to turn our 
experience to account, as a mode of avoiding future evil, or 
obtaining future good ; because, for this application of our 
knowledge, it would be requisite that events, before observed, 
should occur to us at the time when similar events might be 
expected. We refrain from tasting the poisonous berry, which 
we have known to be the occasion of death to him who tasted 
it ; because the mere sight of it brings again before us the fatal 
event which we have heard or witnessed. We satisfy our ap- 
petite with a salutary fruit, without the slightest apprehension ; 
because its familiar appearance recalls to us the refreshment 
which we have repeatedly received. But if these suggestions 
were reversed, — if the agreeable images of health and refresh- 
ment were all that were suggested by the poisonous plant, and 
pain, and convulsions, and death were the only images sug- 
gested by the sight of the grateful and nourishing fruit, — there 
can be no doubt to which of the two our unfortunate preference 
would be given."* 

In suggestion, there is a tendency, as we have seen, to rela- 
tive conceptions ; so that all objects and ideas which sustain 
any relation to each other, are capable of suggesting one an- 
other. To inquire, therefore, into the laws, according to which 
the suggesting principle operates, is, in effect, to inquire what 
relations are to be found existing amongst our multiplied 
thoughts and conceptions ; or to endeavor to reduce them all, 
as several writers have done, to a few general and comprehen- 
sive classes. Mr. Stewart makes no attempt to do this, and 
for a reason which is not altogether destitute of weight. In re- 
ference to Hume's classification, he says, "It is not necessary 
for my present purpose that I should enter into a critical exami- 
nation of this part of his system, or that I should attempt to 
specify those principles of association which he has omitted. 
Indeed, it does not seem to me that the problem admits of a 
satisfactory solution, for there is no possible relation among the 
objects of our knowledge, which may not serve to connect them 
together in the mind; and, therefore, although one enumera- 

* Vol. ii. pp. 205-6. 



LAWS OF SUGGESTION. 173 

tion may be more comprehensive than another, a perfectly com- 
plete enumeration is scarcely to be expected."* 

We may grant to Mr. Stewart the truth of his concluding re- 
mark, without conceding that we should make no effort to enu- 
merate and classify. Perfection can never be attained by man ; 
so that if we were to do nothing which we cannot do perfectly, 
our time must be consumed in total inactivity. And should any 
one, taking advantage of the preceding statement, alledge that 
an enumeration of the laws of suggestion, being in effect mere- 
ly a classification of the relations of surrounding objects, is not 
adapted to throw much light upon the nature of the mind, we 
answer, that since the relations are perceived, or felt by the 
mind, we do, in point of fact, enlarge our knowledge of the 
mind by inquiring what are the relations which it is capable of 
ascertaining. 

Previously to the publication of Mr. Hume's works, the re- 
lations by which our thoughts are connected together, and the 
laws which regulate their succession, were but little attended 
to. He attempted to reduce all the principles of association — 
or the general circumstances according to which suggestion 
takes place — to the three following, viz. Resemblance, Conti- 
guity in time and place, and Cause and Effect. Of this attempt 
Mr. Stewart says, " it was great, and worthy of his genius ; 
but it has been shown by several writers since his time, that 
his enumeration is not only incomplete, but that it is even in- 
distinct as far as it goes." It is, however, even more manifest- 
ly redundant than incomplete, according to his own principle 
of arrangement, inasmuch as Contiguity includes Causation. 
Other objects may be proximate, but a cause and an effect must 
be so, at any rate in reference to time ; and are, indeed, class- 
ed in the relation of contiguity by Mr. Hume himself, on that 
very account. Dr. Brown imagines that all those relations 
which guide the operations of the suggesting principle, may be 
reduced to the single relation of contiguity ; for though the con- 
ception of a giant and a dwarf, for instance, may not have co- 
existed, each may have co-existed with a certain emotion, so 
that either of the objects, by awakening that emotion, may sug- 
gest the other. If this delicate analysis should be allowed to be 
just, no charge of incompleteness can attach to Mr. Hume's 
classification. It would be difficult, however, to reduce every 
case of suggestion to the influence of this single law. I prefer, 
therefore, the classification of Hume, (causation being includ- 

* Vol. i. p. 289. 



174 FIRST LAW OF SUGGESTION. 

ed in contiguity) with the addition of Contrast ; so that the three 
primary laws of suggestion are Resemblance, Contrast, and 
Contiguity. 

FIRST LAW OF SUGGESTION, 

RESEMBLANCE. 

Under this general law are included a great variety of indi- 
vidual cases of suggestion, differing in some respects from 
each other. 

Objects which bear a mutual resemblance will awaken the 
conception of each other. An individual, whom we have never 
seen, brings to our recollection, on this account, an old and fa- 
miliar friend. The house of a total stranger, places vividly be- 
fore us our own beloved home. A scene in nature, on which 
we had never previously gazed, suggests a similar one in our 
immediate neighborhood, which has delighted us from the days 
of childhood. In all these cases, it is to be especially observed, 
that resembling states of mind are produced by the objects 
which suggest each other, in consequence of the similar im- 
pressions they make upon the organs of sense ; and that to this 
circumstance the suggestion is to be traced. The mind has a 
tendency to exist in certain states, after certain other states. 
The great general law is, that states of mind which bear any 
relation to each other, may suggest one another ; states, there- 
fore, which sustain the particular relation of resemblance, will 
suggest each other. The perception of the stranger's house, 
and the conception of our own, are resembling states of mind ; 
the idea of one will, therefore, introduce the idea of the other, 
because there is a tendency in the mind to exist in resembling 
states, after resembling states. The suggestion cannot, in 
this case, be the result of association, because no idea of the 
stranger's house had existed till the house was perceived, when 
it instantly recalled the recollection of our own. 

Analogous as well as resembling objects will suggest each 
other. There is no actual resemblance between a brave man 
and a lion ; but there is a resemblance in the emotion which 
the sight of each produces ; and hence the contemplation of 
the deeds of the hero will suggest the notion of a lion. A 
lamb is an inoffensive animal ; when observing it we are 
accordingly impressively reminded of the comparative inno- 
cence of childhood. This case of suggestion does not mate- 
rially differ from the one already considered. It is by means 



RESEMBLANCE. 175 

of the production of similar states of mind, that both resem- 
bling and analogous objects suggest each other. The states 
in the former case, are what we generally call ideas, or 
notions ; in the latter case, they are emotions. Objects 
which resemble each other, suggest one another, by pro- 
ducing resembling ideas ; objects which are analogous to 
each other, perform the same work, by awakening resembling 
emotions. 

Many of our rhetorical figures owe their origin to these an- 
alogies of objects, or their tendency to excite resembling emo- 
tions ; and it is upon the quickness of the mind in recognizing 
these analogies, that some of its higher powers, such as fancy, 
or imagination, depend. Under the impulse of powerful feel- 
ing, which imparts an increased degree of vigor to all the 
mental faculties, the strong emotion of the moment will natu- 
rally suggest a variety of objects which have excited similar 
states of emotion ; hence a profusion of metaphors will be 
poured forth, for the metaphor, as it has been justly said, is 
the natural vehicle of passion. In the metaphor the analogy, 
or resemblance, is implied ; in the simile it is expressed ; — 
that man is a lion — that man is as brave as a lion. The simile 
is therefore obviously inconsistent with the impetuosity of 
passion. In a state of comparative coolness, we may stop to 
develop, and fully exhibit, the analogies which present them- 
selves to the mind ; but it is impossible to do this in a mo- 
ment of great excitement. " The mind, in this case, seizes 
the analogy with almost unconscious comparison, and pours 
it forth in its vigorous expression with the rapidity of inspira- 
tion. It does not dwell on the analogy beyond the moment, 
but is hurried on to new analogies, which it seizes, and de- 
serts in like manner ;"* so that the blending together of 
incongruous images in the same paragraph, though it may be 
assailed by that technical criticism which thinks only of tropes, 
and figures, and the formal laws of rhetoric, may be justified, 
as the same writer observes, " by that sounder criticism which 
founds its judgments on the everlasting principles of our in- 
tellectual and moral nature." 

The metaphor, and the simile, afford pleasure to the mind, 
by bringing to view the analogies to which we have referred. 
It is therefore necessary that these analogies be not only real y 
but obvious, at least obvious when the attention is directed to 
them. It is important to add this clause to the general asser- 

* Brown, vol. ii. p. 231. 



176 FIRST LAW OF SUGGESTION. 

tion, because much of the high gratification derived from 
works abounding in the kind of imagery we are now consider- 
ing, results from the unthought of analogies which they deve- 
lop ; analogies that had not previously occurred to us, but 
which, when once unfolded, we admit to be not less obvious 
than true to nature. 

It is a very important remark, also, that these figures must 
not merely be just and obvious, but borrowed from objects 
which might be naturally expected to occur to the mind in the 
situation in which the comparison is made. What we call far- 
fetched analogies are not similes, in which there is no real 
analogy in the objects they compare, nor in which the analogy 
is not so complete as in others whose excellence we admit ; 
" but there are those," says Dr. Brown, " in which the analogy 
is sought for in objects, the natural occurrence of which, to 
the mind of the writer in the circumstances in which he is sup- 
posed to be, does not seem very probable." The same writer 
illustrates the truth and justness of this remark by a reference 
to one of the stanzas in Grey's Elegy in a Church-yard : 

" Full many a gem of purest ray serene 
" The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear; 
" Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, 
" And waste its sweetness on the desert air." 

* l The two similes in this stanza, certainly produce very 
different degrees of poetical delight. That which is borrowed 
from the rose, blooming in solitude, pleases in a very high de- 
gree ; both as it contains a just and beautiful similitude, and 
still more, as the similitude is one of the most likely to have 
arisen to a poetic mind, in such a situation. But the simile in 
the first two lines of the stanza, though it may, perhaps, philo- 
sophically be as just, has no other charm ; and strikes us im- 
mediately as not the natural suggestion of such a moment, and 
such a scene." There is an analogy doubtless between talents 
and virtues in the obscurity of deep poverty, and a jewel con- 
cealed from the view of all, at the bottom of the ocean ; but it 
is an analogy, not likely to be suggested by the scenery of 
the church-yard ; and, therefore, it yields less satisfaction than 
the other. 

This tendency of the mind to the suggestions of analogy, 
contributes to enlarge the boundaries of the arts and sciences. 
In the contemplation of a certain result, there will occur to the 
mind all the variety of analogous means, which might lead to 
the production of it. " When a mechanician sees a machine," 



CONTRAST. 177 

says Dr. Brown, " the parts of which all concur in one great 
ultimate effect, if he be blessed with inventive genius," i. e. 
if there be a tendency in his mind to suggestions of analogy, 
he will not merely see and comprehend the uses of the parts, 
as they co-operate in the particular machine before him, but 
there will, perhaps, arise in his mind the idea of some poiver, 
yet unapplied to the same purpose ; some simpler process, by 
which the ultimate effect may be augmented or improved, or 
at least obtained at less cost of time, or labor, or capital. 
When the crucible of the chemist presents to him some new 
result, and his first astonishment is over, there arises in his 
mind the ideas of products or operations, in some respects 
analogous, by the comparison of which he discovers some new 
element, or combination of elements, and perhaps changes 
altogether the aspect of his science. A Newton sees an 
apple fall to the ground, and he discovers the system of the 
universe. In these cases, the principle of analogy, whether its 
operation be direct or indirect, is too forcible, and too exten- 
sive in its sway, to admit of much dispute."* 



SECOND LAW OF SUGGESTION. 
CONTRAST. 

The mind has a tendency to exist in successive states which 
are opposite to, as well as resemble one another. This is an- 
other of the general laws, according to which the principle of 
suggestion operates. Hence the conception of a giant may be 
immediately succeeded by the conception of a dwarf. The lat- 
ter idea does not arise as the result of some previous associa- 
tion between it and the idea of a giant ; but in consequence of 
an original tendency of the mind to exist in these successive 
states ; of which no other account can be given, than that such 
is the constitution which its Creator has imparted to it. 06- 
jects, accordingly, which present themselves in the light of con- 
trast, will suggest each other. The sight of a city, sacked and 
destroyed by a victorious and infuriated army — its houses laid 
in ruins — its palaces reduced to ashes — its streets rendered 
impassable by the bloody and mangled remains of the thou- 
sands of warriors who fell in its defence, and to whom no right 
of sepulture had been extended, — can scarcely fail to be suc- 
ceeded by the conception of the same city in the day of its 

* Vol. ii. pp. 237-8. 
16 



178 SECOND LAW OF SUGGESTTOIC. 

prosperity and joyousness — when its edifices were the theme 
of universal praise — when the voice of gladness was heard in 
all its dwellings, and the smile of comfort rested on every 
countenance. 

Opposite conditions suggest one another. The state of in- 
fancy suggests that of old age ; the state of old age, that of 
infancy. The conception of prosperity is succeeded by that of 
adversity, and the contrary. We can scarcely see an indivi- 
dual in firm and vigorous health, without thinking of the time 
when disease may reduce him to a state of decrepitude. Nor 
can we look at the " imperial victor moving along in all the 
splendor of majesty and conquest,." without recollecting that, 
if he retain his supremacy among men, there is a mightier arm 
even than his, which, in the brief space of a few hours, can 
bring him down even to the grave. Dr. Brown thinks that this 
tendency of the mind to pass from one state to its opposite, is 
a happy contrivance of nature, or, as I would rather say, a wise 
provision of the God of nature, for tempering that excess of 
emotion which might result from too long a continuance of the 
same feeling. It may awaken salutary reflection in the minds 
of the rich and great ; it can scarcely fail to cherish the princi- 
ple of hope in the bosoms of the most wretched of our race. 
Present misery suggests, by the law of contrast, the concep- 
tion of past enjoyment ; and though, for a time, this may even 
aggravate our distress, yet the images of past delight cannot 
long be present to the mind, without awakening trains of 
thought corresponding with themselves, " and in some degree 
the happy emotions with which they were connected — emo- 
tions which dispose the mind more readily to the belief, that 
the circumstances which have been, may yet again recur ;"* 
and thus the gracious Author of our being "has provided an 
interna] source of comfort, in the very excess of misery itself." 

To this tendency of the principle of suggestion we are in- 
debted for the rhetorical figure called Antithesis. It both 
prompts the orator to the use of the figure, and renders it to 
his hearers pleasing and effective. " Of the eternity of ages* 
and the few hours of life — the Almighty power of God, and hu- 
man nothingness — it is impossible to think in succession, with- 
out a feeling like that which is produced by the sublimest elo- 
quence." Impressive, however, as this figure is — and indeed 
because it is so — it ought to be cautiously and sparingly intro- 
duced ; our thoughts and images must not appear to be the re- 

* Vol. ii. p. 258. 



CONTIGUITY, 179 

suit of labor, they should seem to rise spontaneously. And it 
is impossible that this should be the case, if they display not a 
variety corresponding with the diversified ways in which the 
principle of suggestion, left to its own guidance, loves to de- 
velop its powers. The field of thought requires variegated 
tints, and colors, and species, as well as the garden ; in which 
a continuous succession of clusters of the same flower would 
prove monotonous and tiresome, even though that flower should 
be the jessamine or the rose. 

THIRD LAW OF SUGGESTION. 
CONTIGUITY. 

Objects contiguous in place suggest one another to the mind. 
** To think of one part of an extended landscape," says Dr. 
Brown, " is to recall the whole. The hill, the grove, the church, 
the bridge, and all the walks that lead to them, rise before us in 
immediate succession." The conception of a certain town 
brings into distinct mental view the streets, and the exact suc- 
cession of houses ; and, especially, that house which has been 
lon<r hallowed to our recollections as the abode of tried friend- 
ship and eminent piety. The name of a country recalls to our 
remembrance all the neighboring ones, and thus renders at- 
tainable the knowledge of the geography of the globe. If places 
had not suggested contiguous places — " if the idea of the river 
Nile had been as quick to arise on our conception of Green- 
land as on that of Egypt" — " it is evident that however intently 
and frequently we might have traced on our maps every boun- 
dary of every province of every nation on our globe, all would 
have been, in our mind, one mingled chaos of cities, and 
streams, and mountains."* 

There are cases in which the joint influence of resemblance, 
and contiguity of place or time, are discernible. A stranger, 
whose eyes resemble those of a particular friend, though his 
general countenance should be totally dissimilar, will suggest 
the conception of our friend. Dr. Brown says of this, and, in- 
deed, of every case of resemblance, that it may be reduced from 
direct resemblance, to the influence of mere contiguity. With 
submission to this distinguished writer, I am disposed to regard 
this statement as being only partially true. When the conception 
of our friend's eyes has arisen, it is not difficult to see how that 
vrill recall, by the third law of suggestion, his whole count©- 

* Brown, vol. ii. pp. 266-7. 



180 THIRD LAW OF SUGGESTION. 

nance and person. But how does the conception of his eyes 
arise ? Not surely by contiguity. The stranger's eyes have ne- 
ver, perhaps, been contiguous, certainly not in our recollection, 
to those of our friend. The latter must, therefore, be introduced 
by the law of resemblance, and not of contiguity. And I feel a 
strong persuasion that this instance, in connexion with kindred 
ones, is fatal to Dr. Brown's opinion, that all suggested feel- 
ings may be reduced to one law — the law of proximity, or 
contiguity. 

Things and events contiguous in point of time suggest one 
another. When we revert to the season of boyhood, we find 
ourselves surrounded, in imagination, with the juvenile asso- 
ciates in our games and sports. If we possess a tolerably 
competent knowledge of history, the recollection of some 
remarkable circumstance will recall all the contemporaneous 
events. Contiguity in time, indeed, " forms the whole calen- 
dar of the great multitude of mankind, who pay little attention 
to the arbitrary eras of chronology, but date events by each 
other, and speak of what happened in the time of some perse- 
cution, or rebellion, or great war, or frost, or famine. Even 
with those who are more accustomed to use, on great occa- 
sions, the stricter dates of months and years, this association 
of events as near to each other, forms the great bond for 
uniting in the memory those multitudes of scattered facts 
which form the whole history of domestic life, and which it 
would have been impossible to remember by their separate 
relation to some insulated point of time."* 

There can be little doubt, indeed, that the mode of studying 
history, at which we have just glanced, will be found, in most 
cases, to be the most expedient. Let the inquirer divide the 
whole time which has elapsed since the date of authentic his- 
tory into periods of not more than forty or fifty years each, 
and then contemplate the remarkable persons and occur- 
rences of each period, and he will find that the law of con- 
tiguity throws so firm a bond _of union around them, (I must 
not be understood literally here, ) that the period will suggest 
the occurrences — and, on the other hand, that each single 
event will suggest the contemporaneous events, as well as 
the general date at which they all happened. 

The great law of suggestion, which we are now considering, 
explains, as we shall afterwards see, the phsenomena of recol- 
lection, as that word is used, in distinction from memory. 

* Brown, vol. ii. pp. 265-6. 



CONTIGUITY. 181 

It unfolds, also, the manner in which children rise to the 
knowledge of language. The sign is pronounced, while the 
object signified by it is presented to their view ; and, being 
thus contiguous in time and place, the sign and the object 
suggest each other. 

Further, connected as well as contemjwraneous events will 
suggest one another ; and the suggestion takes place whether 
the connexion be casual or invariable. The late destruction 
of machinery, in this neighborhood, was connected with com- 
mercial distress ; and, in future years, we shall never think of 
the one, without recollecting the other : here the connexion, 
though natural, was yet accidental. The conception of a cause 
is followed by the conception of an effect, &c. ; here the 
connexion is constant, and invariable. Other objects may 
be proximate in time, but a cause and its effects are always 
so ; they will, accordingly, more readily and certainly suggest 
each other. 

To this law of suggestion we are, in part at least, indebted 
for our knowledge of science ; for science is, as we have seen, 
the knowledge of the relations of bodies to each other — of 
which their relation, in reference to time, is one of the most 
important. Were it not an original tendency of the mind for 
antecedents to suggest consequents, and consequents antece- 
dents, we should in vain search for science and practical wis- 
dom amongst men. Experience of the past would afford no 
guide with respect to the future ; and it is difficult to conceive 
how the human family could, in such circumstances, be pre- 
served from utter extinction. 

There is thus a connexion in the thoughts and feelings of the 
mind. One state is followed by another state, according to a 
certain order of sequence ascertainable by experience, and ex- 
perience alone, — of which order no other account can be given, 
than that the Almighty has impressed upon the mind a tenden- 
cy to exist in these successive states. The general tendency 
operates, as we have seen, according to certain laws, to which 
we give the names of Resemblance, Contrast, and Contiguity. 
The perception of a tempest, for instance, may bring to our 
recollection a similar one which occurred some time ago — or 
it may lead us to think of the brightness and calmness of the 
preceding day — or it may present to our view the awful condi- 
tion of some valued friend, over whose bark, as it rides upon 
the waves, it is at that very moment sweeping with much more 
threatening fury — or it may cause our thoughts to dwell upon 
the devastations which will enable us but too easily to track 
16* 



182 THIRD LAW OP SUGGESTION. 

its course, ere it subside. Now, if the occurrence to which we 
have referred, may suggest any one of these conceptions, it be- 
comes an interesting inquiry, " how does it happen that one is 
actually suggested rather than another? How does it come 
to pass, that the same event awakens different suggestions 
in different minds — and even in the same mind, at different 
periods and times ?" 

There must be circumstances which modify the influence of 
these general laws, or it would follow, not only that our thoughts 
and feelings would invariably arrange themselves in the same 
order of sequence — which we are certain is not the case ; but 
that the history, or, if I may so speak, the map of one mind, 
would exhibit, with perfect correctness, the mind of the spe- 
cies — no difference existing between one mind and another, 
save in the vividness of coloring, or in other words, in the live- 
liness of feelings which uniformly follow in the same course. 

To these modifying circumstances which vary the train of 
thought, and feeling, in different minds— and in the same mind 
at different periods — by inducing one conception, rather than 
others, which might have existed by the primary laws of sug- 
gestion, Dr." Brown gives the name of secondary laws of sug- 
gestion. Some of them embody the rules which have been 
given by various writers for the improvement of the memory, 
and, in this point of view, they will be found very useful. They 
are, in substance, as follows : 

First, Those thoughts or feelings will be most likely to sug- 
gest one another, which, when they first co-existed, or suc- 
ceeded each other, remained for the longest time in the mind. 

Secondly, Those which were originally the most lively. 

Thirdly, Those which have been most frequently found in a 
state of union. 

Fourthly, Those which have been most recently experienced. 

Fifthly, Those which have co-existed less with other feelings. 

Sixthly, The influence of the primary laws is modified by 
constitutional differences. The general power of suggestion 
itself may be more vigorous in one mind than in another ; or 
there may be, in different minds, original tendencies to differ- 
ent species of suggestions. To illustrate this subject, let us 
suppose that, in three individuals, the principle of suggestion 
exhibits the following varieties. To the mind of the first, the 
objects which he beholds habitually suggest resembling objects ; 
to that of the second, contrary, or contrasted objects ; to that 
of the third, contiguous objects. How different in this case, 
must be the conceptions which the tempest, to which we re- 



' CONTIGUITY. 183 

ferred a short time ago, would excite in the bosoms of these 
men ! That there is an original difference of tendency in the 
principle of suggestion, cannot be doubted ; and, in all proba- 
bility, it is, as Dr. Brown imagines, upon a constitutional 
tendency to suggestions of analogy, that the exalted faculty, 
which we call genius, depends. The splendid imagery of the 
poet is built, as we have seen, upon analogy — upon the sha- 
dowy resemblances of objects to each other, or rather upon 
their tendency to awaken similar emotions. There is thus an 
analogy between a veteran chief, to whom the remembrance 
only of glory remains, a majestic oak, stripped by age of its 
verdure ; the sight of one may therefore recall the other. But 
if there be not a natural tendency to suggestions of analogy — 
or if the mind of an observer be dull and cold, and, in a great 
degree, unsusceptible of emotion of any kind, the two objects, 
in consequence of the faintness of the resembling and connect- 
ing emotion which they produce, will not be likely to suggest 
each other. In order to the suggestion, in this case, it would 
be necessary that some master mind should have previously 
placed them before his view in the relation of contiguity ; and 
then they will, of course, recall each other by the third law of 
suggestion. In the former case, the man is a genius ; in the 
latter, a mere imitator. For the creations of genius, as we call 
them, are the suggestions of analogy. They result, probably, 
from a quicker and a more delicate susceptibility of emotion ; 
in consequence of which, objects which produce resembling 
emotions, suggest one another ; the fancy becomes creative, 
and the poet exhibits " new forms of external beauty, or of in- 
ternal passion, which crowd upon his mind by their analogy to 
ideas and feelings previously existing." An equal variety and 
beauty of imagery may flow from the pen of an inferior poet ; 
but his splendid figures are not the creations of his own mind; 
i. e. they are not suggestions of analogy, but of contiguity. 
The subject which he endeavors to illustrate, and the imagery 
he employs for that purpose, had been brought together by 
preceding writers ; they suggest each other by contiguity ; and 
his poetry is an effort not of genius, but of memory. " Copious 
readings, and a retentive memory," says Dr. Brown, " may 
give to an individual of very humble talent a greater profusion 
of splendid images than existed in any one of the individual 
minds on whose sublime conceptions he has dwelt, till they 
have become, in one sense of the word, his own. There is 
scarcely an object which he perceives that may not now bring 
instantly before him the brightest imagery ; but for this sugges- 



184 THIRD LAW OF SUGGESTION. 

tion, however instant and copious, previous co-existence, or 
succession of the images, was necessary ; and it is his memo- 
ry, therefore, which we praise. If half the conceptions which 
are stored in his mind, and which rise in it now in its trains of 
thought by simple suggestion, as readily as they arose in like 
manner in accordance with some train of thought in the mind 
of their original authors, had but risen by the suggestion of 
analogy, as they now arise by the suggestion of former prox- 
imity, what we call memory, which is, in truth, only the same 
suggestion in different circumstances, would have been fancy, 
or genius ; and his country and age would have had another 
name to transmit to the reverence and the emulation of the 
ages^that are to follow. "* 

Seventhly, The primary laws are modified not only by con- 
stitutional differences, which are of course permanent, but 
also by others which are less permanent ; by the days, or 
hours, or minutes, of good or bad humor, and in general of 
all the emotions, pleasing or painful, that are able, while they 
last, to warm even the sullen to occasional sprightliness and 
kindness, or by an opposite transformation, to convert the gay 
to grave, the lively to severe. 

Eighthly by the state of the body. 

Lastly by habit. There are tendencies 

of mind acquired by habit, which operate somewhat in the 
same manner, with constitutional differences, to modify the 
successions of our thoughts. The truth of this is evinced by 
the different conceptions which are awakened in the minds of 
men of different professions by hearing the same story, or pe- 
rusing the same book. 

With reference to the general subject of suggestion, two cir- 
cumstances further deserve our attention. 

The first is, that the liveliness of suggested feelings depends 
upon the manner of their introduction into the mind. The con- 
ception of our native land, for instance, when at a distance from 
it, and destitute of all the comforts which are only to be en- 
joyed there, however that conception may arise, must always be 
interesting and affecting ; yet will it be more especially so, if it 
is awakened by the unexpected sight of an object which came 
from that land, and which transports us back again, as it were, 
to our own fire-side. The well-known story of the pewter- 
spoon, stamped with the word London, found by Captain King, 

* Vol. ii. pp. 277-8. 



CONCEPTIONS MAT EXIST. 185 

at the extremity of the globe, admirably illustrates the forego- 
ing statement. 

The superior influence of objects of perception in stimulating 
the suggesting principle, Mr. Stewart explains on the ground of 
their permanent operation, as exciting or suggesting causes. 
" When a train of thought," says he, " takes its rise from an 
idea or conception, the first idea soon disappears, and a series 
of others succeeds, which are gradually less and less related 
to that with which the train commenced ; but in the case of 
perception, the exciting cause remains steadily before us ; and 
all the thoughts and feelings which have any relation to it, 
crowd into the mind in rapid succession ; strengthening each 
other's effects, and all conspiring in the same general impres- 
sion."* 

Now if the suggested feeling produced by an object of per- 
ception grew in vividness as these thoughts and feelings crowd 
into the mind, I should think this statement of Mr. Stewart not 
only ingenious, but satisfactory. The contrary, however, will, 
I apprehend, be found to be the case. The strongest burst of 
feeling is at the moment of perception, before there has been 
time for the gathering and bringing forward of this crowd of 
associate ideas. Dr. Brown supposes that the object before 
us awakens a variety of associate feelings, which mingle with 
the perception itself, and form with it one complex feeling ; and 
that the felt reality of the object perceived, gives to the whole 
of these associate feelings the temporary illusion of reality. 
Without expressing any decided opinion on this point, I am 
ready to concede to Dr. Brown, that when for the first time 
after the death of a friend, we are introduced into his study, we 
feel as if we were again in his presence ; and should regard it, 
as Mr. Stewart says, " a sort of violation of that respect we 
owe to his memory, to engage in any light or indifferent dis- 
course, with the materials of his former occupation before 
us." How this should take place without something of that 
illusion, of which Dr. Brown speaks, it is, perhaps, difficult to 
conceive. 

The second remark is, that when we speak of an object, or 
conception, introducing a train of thought into the mind, we are 
not to suppose that, as in a procession of visible figures, one 
idea vanishes from our view when the others become visible. 
On the contrary, the prior conception, in such a case, often re- 
mains, so as to co-exist with the conception it has itself intro- 
duced ; and may afterwards introduce other conceptions, or 

* Vol. i. p. 281. 



186 THE NATURE OP ATTENTION 

feelings, with which it may co- exist, in like manner, in a still 
more complex group. The sight of a book, for instance, the 
gift of a valued friend, introduces the conception of that friend, 
of his family, of an evening which we have spent with them, 
and of various subjects of our conversation. All these concep- 
tions exist simultaneously. Our friend does not introduce his 
family, so to speak, and then disappear. He himself remains, 
as part of the group ; and may be the source of innumerable 
other conceptions, all bearing some degree of relation to him. 

Were it not for this circumstance, as Dr. Brown very justly 
remarks, it would be impossible to think of the same subject 
even for a single minute. The conception of that subject would 
introduce some other conception ; that, in the same manner, 
would give rise to a third ; so that if the original conception 
could not co-exist with the following ones, it must perish almost 
as soon as it arose. Yet we know that the fact is very different, 
and that we " often occupy whole hours in this manner, without 
any remarkable deviation from our original design. Innumera- 
ble conceptions, indeed, arise during this time, but all are more 
or less intimately related to the subject, by the Continued con- 
ception of which they have every appearance of being suggest- 
ed ; and, if it be allowed that the conception of a particular 
subject both suggests trains of conceptions, and continues to 
exist together with the conception which it has suggested, eve- 
ry thing for which I contend in the present case, is implied in 
the admission."* 

Were this co-existence of conceptions and feelings impossi- 
ble, there could be no selection either in the prosecution of an 
argument, or in the choice of imagery. To choose necessarily 
supposes that more than one argument, or image, is in the view 
of the mind ; which could not be the case, if, when one arises, 
all others cease to exist. 

ATTENTION. 

Before we leave the subject of the co-existence of feelings, 
it may be desirable to say something with regard to Attention, 
as it will be found to involve co-existing feelings, viz. desire, 
in union with some other affection of the mind. By most wri- 
ters, previous to the time of Dr. Brown, attention was regard- 
ed as an original power of the mind. It is said by one indivi- 
dual, who exhibits the general doctrine upon the subject, that 
though sensations are intended to make us acquainted with 

* Brown, vol. ii. pp. 324-5. 



CONSIDERED. 187 

external things, yet that, before any internal perception or 
knowledge of the external objects can be obtained, the notice 
of the mind must be directed to them. Attention is, therefore, 
defined as " that faculty by which the mind is enabled to notice 
the objects around us, and, by th^f notice, to acquire the know- 
ledge of things." I do not dwell upon the mistake involved in 
this language with respect to the nature of the knowledge we 
possess of external things ; it is to another point that I now re- 
fer. The statement supposes that there may be sensation, but 
not perception, without attention ; because (for such is mani- 
festly its import) perception is the knowledge of things ; and 
things must be noticed before they can be known. And, such 
notice being necessary, there must be a power to notice them ; 
to which power the name of Attention is given. A few remarks 
will, I trust, render it manifest that we have no need of any 
such power — that all the phenomena of attention may be ac- 
counted for, by supposing the co-existence of desire with per- 
ception, or with one of the internal affections of the mind. 

Upon the nature of Desire, it is not necessary now to 
enter ; all are sufficiently acquainted with it for our present 
purpose. Of what, then, besides desire, in union with some 
other mental affection, are we really conscious, when what we 
call attention is exercised? We hear a low and indistinct 
murmuring. We listen to it — or direct the attention of the 
mind to it. But what is the meaning of these expressions — or 
what is it that takes place in the mind, in the case now sup- 
posed? On the most careful examination, can any thing more 
be discovered, than desire to ascertain the nature or cause of 
the sound, co-existing with the sensation itself — in connexion 
with an effort to place the organ in the most favorable position 
for catching the undulations of the air, as they approach?* 
If the murmuring should gradually subside, so as to become 
quite inaudible, while what is called attention remains, what 
would attention, in that case, be but expectation of its return, 
in union with the continued desire of ascertaining from what 
it results, and the bodily effort to which we have referred 1 I 
am unable to conceive what else can be included in it. Simi- 
lar remarks may be made with regard to attention, when the 
object which awakens it is not any thing external, but some- 
thing in the mind itself; it is desire, co-existing with the par- 

* As a general remark, it may be observed, tbat the effort, of which 
we seem to be conscious in attention, is an eflbrt to preserve the muscles 
in that state of contraction which is most favorable for gaining the in- 
formation desired. 



188 ATTENTION 

ticular state of mind, the nature of which we wish more dis- 
tinctly to ascertain. 

I must not, however, dismiss this subject without referring 
to the cases which are supposed to afford support to the doc- 
trine, that attention is an original power of the mind. It is a 
well-known fact, that impressions are sometimes made, by ex- 
ternal objects, upon the organs of sense, without awakening 
the sensations which are ordinarily produced ; — or, at any 
rate, the sensations, if there are any, are so faint, that, if we 
are conscious of them, they leave no traces in the memory. 
Upon this fact some philosophers build their opinion, that at- 
tention is a distinct and an original faculty, and that the mind 
is not entirely passive even in sensation. Their argument is 
as follows. There cannot be sensation, without attention. The 
support of this proposition is rested upon the fact to which we 
have just alluded ; for it is presumed by them, that, in the cases 
we are now considering, there is no sensation, because the at- 
tention of the mind is engrossed by something else; and upon 
this assumption, for it is nothing more, they build the general 
doctrine, that there can be no sensation without attention. 
And because the mind is active in attention, which is thus 
affirmed to be necessary, in all cases, to sensation, the mind 
is not, they think, altogether passive in sensation itself. It 
might be observed here, that the whole of the preceding state- 
ment manifests those obscure notions concerning the activity 
and passivity of the mind, to which it was found^ necessary 
formerly to advert.* On this, however, I do not dwell. The 
reader is merely requested to observe that, according to the 
doctrine we are considering, the attention of the mind must 
always be awakened previous to sensation, or there could be 
no sensation. And this remark enables us to detect, what I 
will venture to call, the absurdity of the whole theory ; for it 
supposes a connexion between matter and mind, in order to 
account for the connexion, which is known to exist between 
them. The difficulty is to show how an impression, made upon 
a material organ, should be followed by sensation which is al- 
together in the mind. This difficulty it is attempted to remove, 
by introducing the supposition that the mind attends to impres- 
sions made upon the organs of sense (a statement, by the by, 
which is utterly unmeaning) — a supposition grounded upon 
the fact referred to above — and so receives sensations from 
them ! But, if that be the case, the impression, upon the 

* Vide p. 75-77. 



NOT AN ORIGINAL POWER. 189 

bodily organ, must arouse the attention of the mind, in cases 
where the mind was inattentive, previous to sensation ! And 
what is it to affirm this, but in effect to say, that a connexion 
between matter and mind is actually formed, before it is possi- 
ble to form one ? Or, not to press this statement, are we not 
impelled to put the question, " If an impression, upon a bodily 
organ, can immediately and directly produce attention, which 
is one state of mind — why may it not directly produce sensa- 
tion, which is another state of mind ?" The grand difficulty, 
as these writers imagine at least, though there is no especial 
difficulty, as we have seen, in the case, is to get over the gulf 
between matter and mind ; if we can surmount that difficulty, 
it must be as easy to reach the port of sensation, as that of 
attention. 

But, as it still remains a fact that impressions are made 
upon the bodily organs which are not followed, to say the 
least of it, by the ordinarily vivid sensations which attend 
them, how is this fact, it will be said, to be accounted for, if 
we deny that attention is a distinct power of the mind, and so 
do not ascribe the want of sensation, in the cases referred to, 
to the momentary ^attention of the mind 1 I answer, that 
there would be no absurdity in regarding it as an ultimate law 
of the mind, that, when desire co-exists with any sensation, the 
mind is thereby rendered partly incapable of receiving any 
other sensation. All that could be said would be, that though 
the mind is so constituted as to be able to receive, with equal 
readiness, any sensation when it is not under the stimulus of 
desire ; — yet that it is not so constituted as to receive all 
sensations, with the same degree of readiness, while that 
stimulus remains ; but that sensation only, or chiefly, with 
which the desire co-exists. And if any should be disposed to 
regard it as wonderful, if not incredible, that the mind should 
be partly divested of its power to receive sensations with equal 
readiness, while under the influence of this stimulus, I would 
remind them that it is not more wonderful, than that the mind 
should possess this power, when it is not under the stimulus to 
which we refer. 

There is no necessity, however, to suppose that this particu- 
lar influence of desire upon our sensations, is an ultimate law 
of the mind ; it may be resolved into a more general law — as 
the descent of a stone to the earth, may be resolved into the 
general law of gravitation. Dr. Brown states, and his state- 
ment is confirmed by the testimony of experience, that it is the 
nature of our emotions, of every sort, to render more vivid all 

17 



190 THE NATURE OF ATTENTION 

the mental affections with which they happen at any time to be 
combined ; as if their own vivacity were in some measure di- 
vided with them. Desire, accordingly, co-existing with a sen- 
sation, for instance, will render that sensation peculiarly vivid. 
And it is a law of sensation, and r indeed r of all our mental af- 
fections, that when one becomes pre-eminently vivid? the rest, 
which co-exist with it, fade in proportion so as scarcely to be 
felt. " A thousand faint sounds murmur around us, which are 
instantly hushed by any loud noise. If, when we are looking 
at the glittering firmament of suns in a winter night, any one 
of those distant orbs were to become as radiant as our own 
sun, which is itself but the star of our planetary system, there 
can be no question that, like our sun on its rising, it would 
quench,* with its brilliancy, all those little glimmering lights^ 
which would still shine on us, indeed, as before, but would 
shine on us without being perceived. It may be regarded, then, 
as another general law of the mind, that when many sensations, 
of equal intensity, co-exist, the effect of the increased inten- 
sity of one, is a diminished intensity of those which co-exist 
with it."* 

Here, then, we have a simple and intelligible explanation of 
the fact which is adduced by a writer in the Encyclopaedia 
Britannica, to sustain his doctrine concerning attention and 
sensation. " He," says this writer, " whose mind is intensely 
employed in any particular pursuit, may have his eyes open 
upon an object which he sees not, or he may not hear the sound 
of a clock striking within two yards of him ; nay, we will ven- 
ture to affirm, that there is hardly one reader of this article, to 
whom such absences of sensation have not occurred. Now, 
as there is no reason to suppose that, in the one case, the un- 
dulations of the air, caused by the striking of the clock, did 
not reach his ears, or that, in the other, the rays of light re- 
flected from the object, did not fall upon his eyes, which were 
open to receive them ; the only reason which can be assigned 
for his not having, in these instances, had audible and visible 
sensations, is that his mind was so engaged in something else, 
as not to pay to the vibrations of his brain that attention, if we 
may so say, without which impressions ab extra can produce 
no sensation. "| 

Now to this theory there are only two or three objections. 
In the first place, no one knows that there are any such vibra- 
tions m the brain as this writer takes for granted ; in the se- 

* Vol. ii. pp: 133-4. t Vide Article Metaphysics. 



EXPLAINED. 191 

■cond place, if their existence could be proved, it would be 
about as rational to talk of paying attention to them, as of pay- 
ing attention to the motions of the animal spirits — or to the 
groves, and seas, and mountains, if such there be, that lie hid 
under the belts of Jupiter ; in the third place, the explanation 
of the fact, which this writer has suggested, leaves it as much 
involved in mystery as before. In the circumstances referred 
to, the individual had not sensation, because his attention was 
engaged by something else ; this is the amount of the explana- 
tion ; a statement which necessarily supposes that there is no 
difficulty in accounting for sensation when the mind exercises 
attention — that the introduction of the supposed act of atten- 
tion explains the whole matter at once. Let this writer be told, 
on the contrary, that after he has given the best definition of 
the word attention, in this connexion, which he can either pro- 
duce or procure, he has in reality explained nothing ; since it 
is just as difficult to account for sensation when the mind is 
attentive, as when it is inattentive. The writer should have 
been satisfied with stating the fact as an ultimate fact, without 
attempting to assign a reason for it ; for the only thing that 
can be said, when sensation does not thus follow an impres- 
sion upon the organ by which it is usually produced, is, that 
the mind is under the stimulus of strong desire, with reference 
to some other sensation or conception. This stimulus, in com- 
mon with all our emotions, brightens, or renders more vivid, 
that particular conception or sensation ; and all accompanying 
ones become, by a law of the mind, so faint as scarcely to be 
perceived. On this subject the reader should carefully consult 
Dr. Brown,* where the radical doctrine now stated is illus- 
trated most ingeniously; though the particular illustration 
adopted by him, involves specialities in it, which render it of 
more difficult application to the explanation of attention in 
general. 

The preceding account of what actually takes place in the 
mind when we are said to exercise attention, recommends it- 
self by its simplicity and intelligibility ; and, in this respect, it 
forms a striking contrast to the sentiments of those who re- 
gard attention as an original faculty, and yet are unabie to ex- 
plain what they mean by it. The following statement by Mr. 
Stewart, is not a little remarkable. Having supported at some 
length, the opinion that an effort of attention is necessary to 
the lowest degree of memory, he proceeds, not as we might 

* Vol. ii. pp. 131-156. 



192 CONCEPTION, MEMORY, IMAGINATION. 

expect him, to explain what that effort is, nor to tell us that it 
does not need explanation — but to say, " With respect to the 
nature of this effort, it is, perhaps, impossible for us to obtain 
much satisfaction. We often speak of greater and less degrees 
of attention ; and, I believe, in these cases conceive the mind 
(if I may use the expression) to exert itself with different de- 
grees of energy. I am doubtful, however, if this expression 
conveys any distinct meaning. For my own part, I am inclined 
to suppose (though I would by no means be understood to 
speak with confidence) that it is essential to memory, that the 
perception, or the idea, that we wish to remember, should re- 
main in the mind for a certain space of time, and should be 
contemplated by it exclusively of every thing else, and that 
attention consists partly (perhaps entirely) in the effort of the 
mind to detain the idea or the sensation, and to exclude the 
other objects that solicit its notice. Notwithstanding, how- 
ever, the difficulty of ascertaining in what this act oftlie mind 
consists, every person must be satisfied of its reality from his 
own consciousness ; and of its essential connexion with the 
power of memory."* 

With deference to Mr. Stewart, I cannot avoid thinking that 
his definition of attention, " as an effort of the mind to detain 
an idea, or a sensation," does not give any very intelligible ac- 
count of the matter ; and that his concluding words are very 
extraordinary. If the effort, of which he speaks, were a deve- 
lopment of a simple and original power of the mind, how could 
it be unintelligible, any more than other simple and original 
feelings ? The darkness which appears to rest on Mr. Stewart's 
mind is, I apprehend, the entire result of his mistake in class- 
ing attention with the original powers of the mind. Had it oc- 
curred to him, that it may possibly admit of analysis, he could 
scarcely have failed to perceive, with Dr. Brown, that it is de- 
sire, co-existing with some other mental affection. And, as it 
is a secondary law of suggestion, that the most lively feelings 
will be the most readily suggested, he would have seen the in- 
fluence of desire, which always imparts liveliness to a particu- 
lar sensation, or conception, to fix it in the memory. 

CONCEPTION, MEMORY, IMAGINATION. 

From the general view which has tlw^^een given of the fa- 
culty of suggestion, or of the tendency oT the mind to exist in 

. .* 'Vol. i- pp. 107-8. 



CONCEPTION, MEMORY, IMAGINATION. 193 

certain states, after certain other states, it will, I doubt not, 
occur to the thoughtful reader, that it is possible to reduce, to 
this single law, all the phenomena of Conception, Memory, 
Imagination, and Habit, — words which have been usually re- 
garded as denoting so many distinct and original powers of the 
mind. I shall, to a certain extent, mingle together the remarks 
T have to make upon the three former of these supposed pow- 
ers, — presenting the reader, in the first place, with the opinions 
of preceding philosophers, and then showing in what light they 
are exhibited by the doctrines contained in the foregoing pages. 

Some difference of opinion on minor points, is certainly dis- 
played by former writers ; but I believe it has been generally 
maintained by them that conception, memory, and imagination, 
are distinct and original powers of the mind; the first enabling- 
us to make any thing formerly perceived, an object of thought, 
so as, if painters, to sketch a copy of it ; the second, recogniz- 
ing this thing as a former object of perception ; and the third, 
giving us the power to form a notion of what we have never 
seen, and which may not, in fact, be in existence. 

Of the differences to which I have alluded, the following 
constitute a part. Dr. Reid uses the word conception, so as to 
include in it our notions, or apprehensions of general proposi- 
tions ; so that we may be said to conceive of arguments by 
which the truth of any doctrine may be supported : while Mr. 
Stewart wishes to confine its application to our perceptions 
and sensations ; so that we can only conceive, properly speak- 
ing, of what we have seen, or felt, or otherwise perceived. Mr. 
Stewart further contends, that there is invariably connected 
with a lively conception of any object, a firm belief of its pre- 
sent existence. Dr. Reid, on the other hand, says that percep- 
tion is attended with a belief of the present existence of its ob- 
ject ; memory with a belief of its past existence ; but that 
imagination, and he includes conception under this term, is at- 
tended with no belief at all, and was, therefore, called by the 
schoolmen apprehensio simplex. Mr. Stewart expresses a very 
decided opinion, that conception and memory are perfectly dis- 
tinct and separate powers. " Conception," says he, " is often 
confounded with other powers. When a painter makes a pic- 
ture of a friend who is absent or dead, he is commonly said to 
paint from memory; and the expression is sufficiently correct 
for common conversation. But, in an analysis of the mind, 
there is ground for a distinction. The power of conception 
enables him to make the features of his friend an object of 
thought, so as to copy the resemblance ; the power of memory 

17* 



194 CONCEPTION, MEMORY, IMAGINATION, 

recognizes these features as a former object of perception."* 
Another writer, who adopts the same general views, referring 
to this passage, says, on the other hand, " It is difficult to con- 
sider, from this very explanation, that conception is a distinct 
and separate power, and it appears more philosophical and 
simple to view it as that modification of memory, which con- 
sists in recalling our past sensations and ideas without a re- 
cognition of them as having formerly existed." 

Mr. Stewart thus draws the line of distinction between con- 
ception and imagination. " The business of conception, ac- 
cording to the account I have given of it, is to present us with 
an exact transcript of what we have felt or perceived. But we 
have, moreover, a power of modifying our conceptions, by 
combining the parts of different ones together, so as to form 
new wholes of our own creation. I shall employ the word 
imagination to express this power ; and I apprehend that this 
is the proper sense of the word, if imagination be the power 
which gives birth to the productions of the poet and the painter. 
This is not a simple faculty of the mind. It presupposes ab- 
straction, to separate from each other, qualities and circum- 
stances which have been perceived in conjunction ; and also 
judgment and taste to direct us in forming the combinations. 
If they are made wholly at random, they are proofs of in- 
sanity."! 

I perfectly agree with Mr. Stewart, in thinking that the im- 
agination is not a simple faculty of the mind ; but I feel great- 
ly surprised to find that opinion avowed by him. In his "Out- 
lines" he denominates imagination one of the "principles of 
our constitution." He does not admit the faculty of taste, a 
genius for poetry, for painting, for music, for mathematics, into 
his enumeration of the powers of the mind, because they are 
complex ; and he tells us that " to analyze such compounded 
powers into the more simple and genera) principles of our na- 
ture, forms one of the most interesting subjects of philosophi- 
cal disquisition. Why then, it may be asked, has he admitted 
the complex power of imagination into his catalogue of the 
powers of the mind ? Why speak of it as a principle, i. e. an 
intellectual element, when it is confessedly not such'? What 
should we think of the chemist who, after having classed water 
among the elements, should declare that it is not a simple 
substance ? In what is the mistake into which Mr. Stewart 
appears to have fallen inferior ? 

* Vol. i. p. 133. f Vol. ii. p. 135. 



NOT ORIGINAL POWERS. 195 

That imagination is not a distinct power of the mind is sure- 
ly manifest; for if we should fail to show that conception, mem- 
ory, and imagination, may all be resolved into a more general 
law or power of the mind, it might still be contended that they 
are identical. For, first, what is Conception, according to the 
statements of these philosophers themselves, but imperfect 
Memory — memory which recalls the object, but not the time 1 
And, secondly, what is Imagination, but Memory presenting 
the objects of prior perceptions in groups or combinations (in 
a manner to be afterwards explained) which do not exist in na- 
ture ? Were it said to be possible, indeed, for imagination to 
exhibit not only new combinations, but new elements of those 
combinations, there would be stronger reason for represent- 
ing it as an original power of the mind. I am not aware, how- 
ever, that such is the opinion of any. It manifestly is not the 
opinion of Mr. Stewart. " Conception," he tells us, " presents 
us with an exact transcript of what we have felt or perceived." 
There, is then, nothing new here. " Imagination," he pro- 
ceeds, " combines the parts of different conceptions together;" 
so that there is, in like manner, nothing new here but the com- 
binations. And another writer, whose general principles are 
the same, assures us that " the imagination can neither repro- 
duce nor combine any sensations or ideas, but such as have 
been formerly perceived by the mind. No act of the will, in 
the exercise of this power, can call up or combine a sensation 
or idea entirely new. In the wildest excursions of its powers, 
we shall invariably find that every separate part of that group, 
is the reproduction of some former idea or sensation. Look, 
for instance, at the Queen Mab of Shakspeare, — at the Garden 
of Eden, as described by Milton, — the Don Quixote of Cer- 
vantes, — the Crazy Kate of Cowper, — the Passions of Collins, 
or any other combination, formed by the magic power of genius, 
and we shall find that each part of the combination may be 
traced to what has been seen, or heard, or known, as actually 
existing in nature or art. Even the stuff that dreams are made 
of, is nothing more than scattered views of thought, produced 
by sensations imperfectly remembered, while the attention and 
the will are partly suspended, and the mind brought to reflect 
on the most grotesque and heterogeneous associations. In 
fact, unless the most refined conceptions of the most enlight- 
ened faculty were capable of being analyzed, they would be 
unintelligible to others." 

There is not, then, sufficient reason for thinking that Con- 
ception, Memory, and Imagination, are three distinct and origi- 



196 THE NATURE OF CONCEPTION STATED. 

nal powers. I proceed now to show that they may all be re- 
solved into that more general tendency of mind, to which Dr. 
Brown gives the name of Suggestion — or into that law by which, 
according to divine appointment, certain states of mind are fol- 
lowed by certain other states of mind. 



CONCEPTION. 

The truth of the foregoing statement in regard to Concep- 
tion, must be admitted by all who receive the doctrine present- 
ed in the preceding pages with reference to Suggestion. A 
particular conception, is manifestly a suggestion ; the power 
of conception, is the power of suggestion. I perceive a dwarf 
— that is one state of mind ; I immediately think of a giant — 
that is another state of mind. Now if there be a principle in 
the mind, called Suggestion — or a tendency in its phenomena 
to a certain order of sequence — by which the former of these 
states introduces the latter, what need is there for a power of 
Conception to originate the same state ? It is not the order of 
divine Providence to employ two powers in the production of 
one effect ; but, on the contrary, by the operation of a single 
power, to secure many results. It will scarcely be contended, 
by those who regard conception as a power distinct from sugges- 
tion or association, that the notion of a former object of percep- 
tion, introduced by suggestion, differs from the notion of the 
same object introduced by conception. What difference, in 
fact, can there be, unless one of the supposed powers is defec- 
tive in ils operation, and so originates an imperfect notion 1 
And, if there be no difference in the notions, how has it come to 
pass that philosophers, who regard suggestion, or, in the phrase- 
ology of Dr. Reid, association, as an original faculty designed to 
regulate the train of our thoughts, have so generally admitted 
that another original power — the power of conception — has 
been given to us for the accomplishment of the same purpose 1 
They must have thought that some notions of absent objects 
arise in the mind, whose origin cannot be ascribed to the prin- 
ciple of suggestion or association ; and they appear to me to 
have thought so on two accounts. 

First, in consequence of their erroneous views of the nature 
of the suggesting principle. Two ideas cannot, as they thought, 
suggest one another, which have not been previously associated 
in the manner formerly described. In point of fact, however, 
one idea is very frequently succeeded by another, with which no 



THE NATURE OF MEMORY STATED. 197 

union could have been previously formed ; its rise must, there- 
fore, they imagined, be traced to another power. 

Secondly, through the influence of their erroneous concep- 
tions of the manner in which our ideas frequently arise in the 
mind ; viz. by an act of volition. \ There are notions, they al- 
low, whose existence, on any particular occasion, is to be as- 
cribed to the influence of the suggesting or associating princi- 
ple ; but these notions are obviously not directly under our 
control. They arise only when the law of association, to which 
they owe their existence, happens to be in operation. It seemed 
necessary, therefore, to suppose the existence of a distinct pow- 
er, which, putting forth its energy under the direction of voli- 
tion, might secure their presence at all times when there is oc- 
casion for them ; — for that conceptions do arise, one after 
another, by a mere act of will, seems not to have been doubt- 
ed by the philosophers to whom reference is now made — an 
opinion, which, I trust, will speedily appear to be altogether un- 
founded. 

MEMORY. 

Nor is it much less manifest that Memory, as well as Con- 
ception, may be resolved into Suggestion. Even Mr. Stewart, 
though he classes memory among the original powers, admits 
that the remembrance of a past event is not a simple act of the 
mind — that we first form a conception of the event, and then 
judge of the time to which it is to be referred. X ms statement 
is indeed extorted from him, to obviate a charge of seeming 
contradiction in his statements — a contradiction which, I can- 
not avoid thinking, he might have suffered to remain, without 
materially increasing the obscurity into which his neglect of 
analysis has plunged him. The reader shall judge for himself: 
— " Conception implies no idea of lime whatever."* — " Con- 
ception is always attended with a belief that its objects exist ;"| 
that is, it implies the idea of present time, like perception. Again, 
" We have the power, as will not be disputed, of conceiving a 
past event without any reference to time."\ — " Every exertion 
of the power of conception is accompanied with a belief that 
its object exists before as at the present moment ;"§ that is, we 
have not the power of conceiving a past event without refer- 
ence to time. The real doctrine of Mr. Stewart, however, not- 
withstanding these conflicting statements, is expressed in the 

* Vol. i. p. 133. f Ibid. p. 142. t Ibid. p. 406. § Ibid. 



198 THE NATURE OF 

last quotation, viz. " that every exertion of the power of con- 
ception is accompanied with a belief that its object exists be- 
fore us at the present moment." An act of memory, on the 
other hand, includes an idea of the past. Now as the recollec- 
tion of an event, in which any object of sense was concerned, 
involves an act of memory, and an act of conception, it would 
seem to follow, from these statements, that in recollection we 
believe an event to be past and present at the same time. It is 
to remove this obvious difficulty that Mr. Stewart tells us, that 
an act of remembrance is not a simple act — that the mind first 
forms a conception of the event, and then judges from circum- 
stances of the period of time to which it is to be referred.* 
" So long as we are occupied with the conception of any ob- 
ject connected with the event, we believe the present existence 
of the object ; but this belief," he adds, " is instantly corrected 
by habits of judging acquired by experience."']" Mr. Stewart 
himself does not seem to anticipate that this attempt to remove 
the difficulty will prove satisfactory to all his readers. I find it 
not easy to conceive how it can satisfy any. It manifestly sur- 
renders the correctness of the former statement, " that memo- 
ry includes an idea of the past," or rather it relinquishes the 
notion of its being a separate power. It is not by memory, but 
conception, that the event is placed before the view of the 
mind ; it is not by memory, but judgment, according to his 
own admission, that it is referred to a former period of time. 
Now, since the notion of the event rises by conception, and is 
referred to past time by judgment, what is the office which 
memory has to perform here ? I can conceive of none. 

Had Mr. Stewart permitted his latter statements to remodel 
his previous ones, there would have been little reason to com- 
plain of want of accuracy ; for what we call Memory is not a 
distinct power, but Conception ; i. c. as we have seen, sug- 
gestion, co-existing with the notion of time. The remembrance 
of a past event is the notion or conception of that event, as a 
past event ; or, in other words, it is the notion, combined with 
a feeling, that it stands in the relation of priority to our present 
consciousness. The notion itself is a simple suggestion, and 
arises through the operation of that power ; the feeling of its 
antecedence to the present moment is a relative suggestion, 
and arises through the influence of another power — the power 
of relative suggestion, which remains to be considered. " The 
remembrance, therefore, being thus a complex feeling, is a 

* Vol. i. p. 406. f Ibid. 



MEMORY STATED. 199 

proof of the existence of the two susceptibilities of the mind 
to which reference has just been made ; but it is not a proof 
of any third power, more than the sight of a rose, combined 
with the perception of its fragrance, is a proof that we possess 
some third sense or power, distinct from those which give us 
the elementary sensations of color and odor, of which our com- 
plex sensation is formed."* Few notions are of more difficult 
apprehension, than the notion of time. The term seems to in- 
dicate not a thing, but a relation — the relation of antecedence 
and posteriority. Now as various events sustain these relations 
to each other, and to other events, it is necessary to have a 
general term which may include all the individual varieties of 
the relation — as we have the general term man, to include every 
individual man. This general term is time. And memory is 
the simple conception of an event, co-existing, as we have seen, 
with the notion of time ; or with the notion that the event stands 
in the relation of priority, to the present moment. The con- 
ception itself may arise by any of the laws of suggestion ; for 
it is, as we have seen, a mere suggestion. The notion of time, 
I. e. of priority, arises on comparing the event with our present 
consciousness. The conception may arise without this com- 
parison, in which case it is conception or suggestion merely ; 
or it may arise, and co-exist, with this comparison, in which 
case it is memory. 

There can be little doubt that, in the case of memory, as 
well as of conception, the notion that these conceptions are 
under our control, so that we can produce them by an act of 
volition, has contributed to perpetuate the opinion, that memo- 
ry is a distinct power from suggestion or association. Dr. 
Reid, in distinguishing between memory and reminiscence, 
says, that the latter includes a will to recollect something past, 
and a search for it. This is not the case, as we have seen, 
with reference to ideas which arise through the influence of as- 
sociation. They come unbidden into the mind. It will be 
proper, therefore, to examine the correctness of the opinion to 
which reference has been made. Let it be observed, then ? 
that neither Dr. Reid, nor Mr. Stewart, imagines that any idea 
can be the direct result of volition, " Here," says the former, 
" a difficulty occurs. It may be said that what we will to re- 
member, we must conceive, as there can be no will without a 
conception of the thing willed. A will to remember a thing, 
therefore, seems to imply that we remember it already, and 

* Brown, vol. ii. p. 387. 



200 THE NATURE OF 

have no occasion to search for it."* The language of Mr. 
Stewart is still more decided : " To call up a particular thought," 
says he, " supposes it to be already in the mind." The first of 
these writers, however, if not the latter, imagines that volition 
has an indirect influence over our conceptions. " When we 
will to remember a thing," he says, " we must remember some- 
thing relating to it, which gives us a relative conception of it ; 
but we may, at the same time, have no conception what the 
thing is, but only what relation it bears to something else."f 
On this statement it may be observed, that doubtless the best 
method we can take to revive the recollection of something 
which has escaped from our minds, is to " remember," if we 
can, something relating to it ; for in that case the ordinary 
laws of suggestion are likely to introduce the idea of which we 
are in quest. But the question is, how does the memory of 
the relative conception, which is to draw the other after it, arise? 
" If it arises of itself to the mind, according to the simple 
course of suggestion, there is not even indirect volition in the 
parts of the spontaneous train ; and if it does not arise of itself, 
but is separately willed, there is then as direct volition, and, 
consequently, as much absurdity, involved in this calling up of 
the person, the place, and the other accompanying circum- 
stances, as in calling up the very conception itself, which is the 
object of all this search. In either case, we must be supposed 
to will to know that, of which the will to know implies the 
knowledge."]; 

Dr. Reid appears to me to have involved himself in unne- 
cessary difficulty, by using the term Will, instead of Desire, in 
this connexion ; for the " will to remember a thing," of which 
he speaks, is not will, or volition, according to his own defini- 
tion of the term, but simply desire. § And the true theory of 
recollection, or reminiscence, seems to be that it is desire to 
recollect something forgotten, co-existing with various concep- 
tions, bearing a relation to the desire, which arise by the ordi- 
nary laws of suggestion, and which, again, by their relation to 
the event which has escaped from our recollection, may, soon- 
er or later, introduce it into the mind. " But the co-existence 
of this train of conceptions, with the unsatisfied desire,'' says 
Dr. Brown, " though a complex state of mind, is not the ex- 
ercise of any new power, distinct from the elementary powers 
or feelings which compose it. We have only to perform our 

* Vol. i. p. 495/ f Ibid. t Brown, vol. ii. pp. 375-6. 

§ Vide Brown, Cause and Effect, pp. 74, 75. 



MEMORY STATED. 201 

mental analysis, as in any other complex phenomena of the 
mind, and the elements instantly appear."* 

There is one statement by Dr. Brown — a statement in which 
I cannot altogether concur with him, but which is far too in- 
genious, and important, to be passed over unnoticed. It oc- 
curs in the kind of complaint he makes of the general tendency 
to restrict improperly the application of the term Memory. 
What is memory, but suggestion? What is the faculty of me- 
mory, but the tendency of the mind to suggest ideas, or ob- 
jects, with which it has been previously acquainted, according 
to certain laws ? The laws are different — the suggestions are 
different ; and yet we are apt to regard memory as compre- 
hending suggestions of a particular order only — those which 
take place according to the law of contiguity in time and place. 
To remember, is to have some object or event suggested to 
the mind, by something which had been contiguous with it, in 
time or place. Such is the ordinary view of this faculty. But 
if memory is mere suggestion, why, inquires Dr. Brown, in ef- 
fect at least, should this one particular class of suggestions 
appropriate the name to itself exclusively ? Why should not a 
suggestion of analogy be called memory, or an act of memory, 
as well as a suggestion of contiguity ? Why should not an ori- 
ginal tendency to suggestions of the former class,")" be deno- 
minated a good memory, as well as a similar tendency to sug- 
gestions of the latter class ? Why should we not talk of the 
good memory of the poet, as well as of the historian, or chro- 
nologist ? The fact which has been referred to, with regard to 
imagination ; viz. that it does not create any new conception, 
or even the fragment of such a conception — that all the com- 
ponent parts of its combinations have been present to the view 
of the mind before — seems to give great plausibility to these 
statements. The substance of them cannot, indeed, as it was 
formerly admitted, be denied. The creations of genius are 
suggestions of analogy. The analogous objectG suggested, 
must have been previously seen by the individual, or he must 
have formed some conception of them. Why then should he 
not be said to remember them, when the idea of them is intro- 
duced by the presence, or the notion of other objects? There 
does not occur to me any answer to this question, except one, 
which has led Dr. Brown himself to acknowledge that a dis- 
tinction exists between conception and memory ; viz. that sug- 
gestions of analogy are mere conceptions ; at any rate, they 

* Vol. ii. p. 377. t Vide p. 227. 

18 



202 THE NATURE OF MEMORY STATED. 

may be such ; they may not be combined with any notion of 
time ; and therefore Dr. Brown should refuse to designate 
them by the term Memory, or give that name to all our con- 
ceptions. 

It seems to follow from the preceding statements concerning 
memory, that y when we talk of laying up stores of knowledge 
m the mind, upon which this faculty may draw as occasion re- 
quires, we in fact use language which, though it may be ad- 
mitted into the currency of common conversation, does no* 
bear upon it the stamp of genuine philosophy. It must be re- 
garded, indeed, like the phrase, animal spirits, as the relic of a 
barbarous age. With the Peripatetic philosophy, and its no- 
tions of sensible species, &c. the phraseology in question most 
perfectly agreed.* For if images came to the mind in percep- 
tion, and rose again to its view in every act of memory, it was 
obviously necessary to have some place in which to store them, 
between the primary act of perception and the subsequent acts 
of memory. Our forefathers, accordingly, converted the mind 
into a kind of lumber-room, in which the images of birds, 
beasts, fishes, and all sorts of creeping things, were crowded 
together, like the antediluvian tribes in the ark of Noah. From 
this lumber-room, one after another sprang forwards into view, 
as required for a moment, and then sank back into its dark 
abode. Strange metamorphoses also were effected, by the 
master magician, in the interior of the chamber, (which, be it 
observed, was the chamber itself,) as the result of which, some 
ideas, stripped of their heads, others of their tails, and supplied 
with others in their room, were brought forth in this state by 
laughter-loving imagination, like Sampson to the Philistines, 
" to make sport." 

Now, what but a relic of the old Peripatetic philosophy, 
which I have scarcely caricatured, is the statement that " me- 
mory expresses some modification of that faculty which enables 
us to treasure up, and preserve for future use, the knowledge 
we acquire." Why, this is the very lumber-room of the Stagy- 
rite, and modern philosophers have scarcely been at the trou- 
ble of whitewashing it ! When the doctrine of perception by 
images was abandoned, the indefinite and unmeaning phrase- 
ology, as I cannot but regard it, to which I have now referred, 
should have been abandoned also ; I mean by philosophers, in 
philosophical works, and as formal statements, intended to ex- 
plain the subjects on which they treat. If memory, i. e. not the 
power, but the exercise of it, be a conception of some past 
event, blended with a judgment with reference to the time at 



IMAGINATION. 203 

which it happened, (and it is no more in the opinion of Mr. 
Stewart himself,) where is the conception, when the mind is not 
actually forming it ? In what does knowledge consist, but in 
thoughts, conceptions, &c. 1 And what is a thought, but the 
mind thinking — a conception, but the mind conceiving ? What 
are they but states of mind ? How then can ideas, conceptions, 
&c. be laid up in the mind? How can states of mind be treasured 
up in itself? It is not necessary, however, as it has been observed, 
to alter the current phraseology upon this subject ; this is now, 
perhaps, impossible. Our concern should be to attach some defi- 
nite idea to it. Let it not, then, be forgotten,that to lay up know- 
ledge in the mind, is to endeavor, by observation, and reading, 
and conversation, to obtain accurate conceptions of all the ob- 
jects of thought — to examine those objects frequently — to con- 
template them both separately, and in the relations they sustain 
to each other, especially the relations of contiguity of time and 
place ; that so, by the influence of the laws of suggestion, these 
conceptions may be introduced to the mind at the moment 
when they are needed. To suppose that they are laid up in the 
mind, or reside habitually in it, is an error similar to that which 
leads some to suppose that joy, or fear, or sensation, exists in 
the mind, when neither of them is felt ; — or that the mind, 
whose states are perpetually changing, is invariably in the same 
state. The pGiver of suggestion is, indeed, a permanent guest ^ 
and, by its influence, notions of past sensations, or of prior ob- 
jects of perception arise, according to the guiding influence of 
laws which have been formerly explained. 

IMAGINATION. 

A few remarks will show that Imagination resolves itself into 
the general power of suggestion. The fact of the case, ad- 
mitted by all, is, that many of our conceptions have nothing 
which corresponds with them in nature. They are complex ; 
and though their constituent parts may have been formerly re- 
cognized by us, and, indeed, always have been so, yet the com- 
binations themselves have never existed, and in some cases it 
is impossible that they ever should exist. Now the question 
is, How do these complex conceptions arise? The separate 
notion of gold, and of a mountain, may be introduced, accord- 
ing to the system of those who regard memory, conception, 
and association, as distinct powers, through the influence of 
either of them ; but which of them can originate the complex 
notion of a gGlden mountain ? — manifestly not one. We have, 



204 THE NATURE OF 

therefore, it is thought, a distinct power of mind, given us for 
the purpose of modifying our conceptions, by combining the 
parts of different ones together, so as to form new wholes of 
our own creation. To conceive of a golden mountain, for in- 
stance, we combine, it is said, the conception of gold, and the con- 
ception of a mountain ; and the power by which we are enabled 
to do this, is called Imagination. On this statement I observe, 

First, That to suppose this combination to be the result of 
design, involves the same absurdity which was noticed with re- 
spect to reminiscence. " I cannot have selected," says Dr. 
Brown, " the images of gold and a mountain, with the intention 
of forming the compound of a golden mountain ; since it is very 
evident, that if I willed that particular compound, I must have 
had the conception of a golden mountain previously to my 
conception of a golden mountain." " If we select images with 
the view of forming a particular compound, we must already 
have formed this compound ; and to select them for no pur- 
pose whatever, is, in truth, not to select them at all."* 

Secondly, That this complex conception may be ascribed to 
the influence of the ordinary laws of suggestion ; it is, there- 
fore, unphilosophical to suppose the existence of a distinct 
power in order to account for it. We have already seen that 
conceptions and feelings may co-exist, and thus form a com- 
plex state of mind. Each part of a complex conception may, 
accordingly, introduce another conception. If, therefore, the 
immediate antecedent to the notion of a golden mountain be a 
complex feeling, one of its parts may suggest the notion of gold, 
and the other the notion of a mountain ; and thus the complex 
notion — a golden mountain, is accounted for. 

Thirdly, That it is difficult to^conceive what is the precise 
office of imagination, even according to Mr. Stewart's own ac- 
count of it. It is not, he admits, a simple power ; i. e. it is not 
a power at all ; for nothing is, correctly speaking, a power of 
mind which is capable of being resolved into any thing else, 
any more than a material substance is an element which ad- 
mits of analysis. " It supposes," he adds, "abstraction," (of 
which more will be said hereafter,) "to separate from each other 
qualities and circumstances which have been perceived in con- 
junction ; and also judgment and taste to direct us in forming 
the combinations."! Taking this statement, then, for our guide, 
it is abstraction which separates the parts of former combina- 
tions with a view to the formation of a new compound ; it is 

* Vol. ii. p. 395. t Vol. p. 135. 



IMAGINATION STATED. 2D5 

judgment or taste which brings them into their new state of 
complexity. What then is the office of imagination 1 It is sure- 
ly not to throw light upon mental science, to call the combined 
operation of hvo distinct powers of the mind, as they are con- 
sidered, a third power, and to give to that operation a specific 
name. It may be observed, also, that the language to which I 
now refer, necessarily supposes that we have a notion of the 
result of the combination before we make it ; or there would 
be no room for the exercise of judgment. An artist who mixes 
his colors with judgment, knows the effect of their combination. 
Mr. Stewart tells us, that the complex conceptions, of which 
we have been speaking, are formed under the guidance, and 
by the agency of judgment ; and if that be the case, the men- 
tal artist must be aware of the nature and effect of the combi- 
nation which he makes ; or he could only exercise judgment 
after it was made, not in actually forming it ; i. e. he must have 
had " the conception of a golden mountain previously to the 
conception of a golden mountain." 

There are cases, however, in which new compounds, or 
groups, are formed, when the mind earnestly desired a new 
combination ; is there not, then, the exercise of a distinct and 
an original faculty here, going in quest of illustrations, so to 
speak, and selecting from the mass, thus brought before the 
view of the mind, those which are judged to be best adapted to 
our purpose ? Let us examine this matter a little. " We sit 
down," let it be imagined, "to compose upon a certain subject. 
We must necessarily have some general notion of that subject, 
and a strong desire to elucidate it. In these circumstances, if 
our minds possess vigor and fertility, conceptions and illustra- 
tions will flow in with astonishing rapidity." The point then to 
be considered is, " what is their origin V 3 Are they brought 
into the mind by the powerful effort of some distinct faculty, 
given to us for that express purpose, — or are they introduced 
by the influence of the ordinary laws of suggestion 1 To sup- 
pose they arise by a mental effort, by direct volition, is to sup- 
pose, according to preceding statements, that they are in the 
mind, before they are brought into it. They arise then by sug- 
gestion ; the strong desire of elucidating the subject introduces 
them ; so that in fact there is no room for the operation of a 
distinct power here. 

But different conceptions and images, it will be said, per- 
haps, arise to the view of the mind, in the circumstances sup- 
posed ; we must, consequently, have a power to select some 
and to reject others ; and to the performance of this work the 

18* 



206 HABIT. 

general faculty of suggestion is manifestly inadequate. I an- 
swer that it is of immense importance to form clear conceptions 
of what it is that actually takes place in the mind, in the cir- 
cumstances referred to; for the terms employed by the ob- 
jector, are too general and indefinite. What then is its amount? 
I reply, that some of the conceptions and images remain in 
the mind, and are, accordingly, transferred to the paper ; while 
others instantly vanish away. But is this the result of a dis- 
tinct and separate power ? With Dr. Brown I imagine not. 
The'circumstance maybe thus explained : — Among the, various 
images and conceptions which have been introduced, as we 
have seen, by the principle of suggestion, the mind, possessing 
a faculty which remains to be considered — the faculty of per- 
ceiving relations — discovers which of them bear the relation of 
congruity to its leading conception, or to the great point which 
it wishes to illustrate or embellish; " and these images instant- 
ly becoming more lively, and therefore more permanent, the 
others gradually disappear, and leave those beautiful groups 
which he seems to have brought together by an effort of voli- 
tion, merely because the simple laws of suggestion, that have 
operated without any control on his part, have brought into his 
mind a multitude of conceptions, of which he is capable of feel- 
ing the relation of fitness or unfitness to his general plan. 
What is suitable remains, — not because he wills it to remain, 
but because it is rendered more vivid by his approval and in- 
tent admiration. What is unsuitable disappears, — not because 
he wills it to disappear, — for his will would in this case serve 
only to retain it longer ; but simply because it has not attract- 
ed his admiration and attention, and therefore fades like every 
other faint conception. Nature is then to him what she has 
been in every age, the only true and everlasting muse — the in- 
spirer — to whom we are indebted as much for every thing which 
is magnificent in human art, as for those glorious models of 
excellence which, in the living and inanimate scene of existing 
things, she has presented to the admiration of the genius which 
she inspires."* 

HABIT. 

Habit constitutes the last of those supposed powers, the 
phenomena of which may be traced to the influence of the ge- 
neral faculty of suggestion. Mr. Stewart does not admit habit 
into his catalogue of the original powers of the mind. He re- 

* Vol. i\ p. 409. 



HABIT. 207 

solves the power of habit into the association of ideas. Dr. 
Reid, on the other hand, resolves the association of ideas into 
habit. His language is as follows : " That trains of thinking, 
which, by frequent repetition, have become familiar, should 
spontaneously offer themselves to our fancy, seems to require 
no other original faculty but the power of habit." And, refer- 
ring to a good extemporaneous speaker, he adds, " When a 
man speaks well and methodically upon a subject without 
study, and with perfect ease, I believe we may take it for grant- 
ed that his thoughts run in a beaten track. There is a mold 
in his mind, which has been formed by much practice, or by 
study, for this very subject, or for some other so similar and 
analogous, that his discourse falls into this mold with ease, 
and takes its form from it."* 

Now if this statement had been made to a mixed and not 
very philosophical assembly, for the purpose of securing popu- 
lar effect, it might have passed without animadversion. But to 
see it issuing from the pen of a writer, who appears at times so 
fully sensible of the injury which the philosophy of mind has 
sustained by the introduction of material analogies — and to 
find it in a work, too, which was intended for men of thought 
and science, — and given, moreover, as a grave explanation of 
a well-known fact, and not merely as a figurative statement of 
the fact, — may well be regarded as passing strange ! A beaten 
track — and a mold in the mind ! What can the words mean 1 

In defining the term Habit, Mr. Stewart says that the word, 
in the sense in which it is commonly employed, " expresses 
that facility which the mind acquires in all its exertions, both 
animal (query, what is an animal exertion of mind ?) and intel- 
lectual, in consequence of practice. We apply it to the dexte- 
rity of the workman ; to the extemporary fluency of the orator ; 
to the rapidity of the arithmetical accountant. That this facili- 
ty is the effect of practice, we know from experience to be a 
fact ; but it does not seem to be an ultimate fact, nor incapa- 
ble of analysis." 

" In the essay on Attention, I showed that the effects of prac- 
tice are produced partly on the body, and partly on the mind. 
The muscles which we employ in mechanical operations be- 
come stronger and more obedient to the will. This is a fact of 
which it is probable that philosophy will never be able to give 
any explanation." 

" But even in mechanical operations, the effects of practice 

* Vol. ii. p. 87. 



208 HABIT. 

are produced partly on the mind ; and, as far as this is the ease* 
they are resolvable into what philosophers call the association 
of ideas; or into that general fact, which Dr. Reid himself has 
stated, ' that trains of thinking, which, by frequent repetition, 
have become familiar, spontaneously offer themselves to the 
mind.' In the case of habits which are purely intellectual, the 
effects of practice resolve themselves completely into this prin- 
ciple : and it appears to me more precise, and more satisfac- 
tory, to state the principle itself, as a law of our constitution, 
than to slur it over under the concise appellation of habit, which 
we apply in common to mind and to body."* 

The preceding account of habit appears to me to be rather a 
description of the consequences of habit, than a definition of 
the thing itself. Habit, strictly speaking, is the regular and fre- 
quent performance of any particular mental or bodily action. 
When we say of any individual that he is in the habit of tak- 
ing opium, we mean that the act of taking it is frequently re- 
peated, and, perhaps, also at certain stated intervals. The 
term, in short, denotes that which is customary. Habits, how- 
ever, may be most advantageously contemplated in their im- 
mediate results ; and the direct results of an habitual action 
are — an especial tendency to that action, and superior facility 
and excellence in its performance. 

First, The frequent performance of certain actions produces 
an especial tendency to them — and the frequent recurrence of 
certain states of mind, increases the probability of their return. 
This results, as Dr. Brown thinks, in both cases, from the cir- 
cumstance that innumerable relations of co-existence are thus 
formed between these actions and states of mind, and other 
objects and events — so that they are of necessity more fre- 
quently suggested to the mind. In the case of a bodily action, 
performed at various seasons, and urfder numerous and differ- 
ent circumstances, the occurrence of any of those seasons, or 
circumstances, will suggest the action ; the conception of the 
action will awaken the desire to perform it, (by suggestion, 
Dr. Brown thinks — the conception and the desire having fre- 
quently co-existed before : there does not appear to me, how- 
ever, any necessity to call in the aid of suggestion here,) and 
the performance of the action follows as a matter of course. 
In the same way, when a certain mental state has frequently 
existed, many perceptions and events must have co-existed 
with it ; it will, accordingly, be recalled by the recurrence of 



* Vol. i. pp. 284-5. 






HABIT. 209 

any of them. Emotions may, in this manner, in the opinion of 
Dr. Brown, be renewed or suggested by the occurrence of cir- 
cumstances which have co-existed with them ; and the more 
frequently they have been experienced, the more numerous of 
course will be these co-existing circumstances ; and the con- 
sequent greater probability of the frequent revival of the emo- 
tion. In the case of a drunkard, for instance, the desire of 
drinking has, perhaps, co-existed with a particular hour of the 
day — with the perception of certain individuals, or certain ob- 
jects. When that hour, therefore, arrives, or any of these per- 
ceptions occur, the desire, under the influence of the ordinary 
laws of suggestion, will immediately follow them. 

Secondly, The frequent performance of certain actions gives 
increased facility in performing them. It will be sufficient to 
refer, in illustration of this statement, to the case of the rope- 
dancer. How is this to be accounted for ? " The muscles," 
says Mr. Stewart, " which we employ in mechanical operations, 
become stronger, and more obedient to the will." " This is a 
fact," he adds, "of which it is probable that philosophy will 
never be able to give any explanation." This might be as- 
serted with great truth, if the fact were indeed as Mr. Stewart 
states it to be. To say that the muscles become more obedient 
to the will, is, in effect, to say that the same cause produces 
different effects ; which is opposed by all the principles of sound 
philosophy. On this point, the statements of Dr. Brown appear 
to me far more satisfactory. Previously to the performance of 
any action to which we have not become habituated, we know 
neither the particular muscles which must be employed to ef- 
fect it, nor the particular degree of contraction of those mus- 
cles which may be necessary ; nor, I may add, the particular 
state of mind, or volition, that is needed (for all bodily motions 
which are not the result of compulsion, must be preceded 
by volition, or there would be an effect without a cause) to 
produce the contraction. Through the influence, however, of 
a permanent desire to perform the action easily, and gracefully, 
we make repeated efforts, and by this means we gradually dis- 
cover what muscle must be contracted— the degree of exer- 
tion which is necessary — or rather, perhaps, what is the par- 
ticular state of mind which is followed by the desired result. 
The motion is frequently performed through the influence of a 
permanent will, that is, a desire to attain perfection ; thus, as 
the volition and the motion frequently occur in the relation of 
contiguity, the former will suggest the latter. " The two arise 
together, afterwards," says Dr. Brown, " with little risk of the 



210 CONCEPTIONS OF RELATION. 

interference of any awkward incongruous volition, which might 
disturb them, and destroy the beauty of the graceful movements, 
that seem now scarcely to require any effort in the performer, 
but to be to him what the muscular motions necessary for sim- 
ple walking or running are to us — motions that, easy as they 
now seem to us all, were once learned by us as slowly, and 
with as many painful failures, as the more difficult species of 
motions, which constitute their wonderful art, were learned in 
maturer life, by the rope-dancer and the juggler.* 



Class II. 

Of the Intellectual States of Mind ; viz. Conceptions of 
Relation. 

We cannot long observe two or more objects together, with- 
out becoming sensible of certain relations which they mutually 
sustain : the states of mind which constitute the notion, or con- 
ception, of these relations, are what Dr. Brown calls Relative 
Suggestions ; — the power by which we are rendered capable 
of experiencing them, is Relative Suggestion. " I perceive, 
for example, a horse and a sheep at the same moment. The 
perception of the two is followed by that different state of 
mind which constitutes the feeling of their agreement in cer- 
tain respects, or of their disagreement in certain other re- 
spects." The radical difference which exists between Con- 
ceptions of Relation and Simple Conceptions, is taken for 
granted in our classification, and is clearly displayed by the 
different manner in which they arise ; for the class of affec- 
tions we now proceed to consider, can only grow out of the 
consideration of two or more objects, or affections of mind ; 
while the former class requires only one. The perception of 
a horse, for instance, may suggest, in various ways, — by some 
resembling blemish for example, — the notion of a cow ; here 
the notion grows out of the contemplation of one object. But 
that conception of resemblance which is embodied in the word 
quadruped, can only arise on the simultaneous perception, or 
conception, of the horse and the cow, or of other animals of 
the same class. 

There is more danger, however, of identifying conceptions 
®£ relations with our sensitive affections, i. e. with perceptions. 

* Vol. ii. pp. 422-3. 



NOTIONS OF RELATION. 211 

" Relation, proportion, and resemblance," says one, " are, in 
the first instance, distinct original objects of perception ; we 
cannot examine matter, by any of our senses, without perceiv- 
ing them. At the very same instant that perception makes us 
acquainted with the existence of external objects, it also makes 
us acquainted with some of their more obvious relations. 
When equal objects are perceived, we see that they agree ; 
when unequal r we see that they differ; and the mind never 
loses sight of this comparison of objects, which is suggested 
by its very first perceptions. A single object would leave an 
insulated, independent image on the mind ; but the moment 
that another is presented, a comparison is instituted, and we 
are compelled to mark their agreement or their difference. 
This is the first link in reasoning when the objects are not 
presented simultaneously ; when they appear together, percep- 
tion enables us to recognize their apparent relation to each 
other."* 

This passage is, in more respects than one, open to criti- 
cism. What is meant, for instance, by a comparison of ob- 
jects which is suggested by perception? Perception affords an 
opportunity for comparison, but it is not in harmony with the 
established use of the term to say, it suggests it. The lan- 
guage would seem to imply, that the relations of equality, &c. 
are not directly perceived ; but that they are suggested to the 
mind in the sense in which Dr. Brown uses the term. Such, 
however, cannot be its meaning ; since it would be in direct 
hostility to the object the writer had in view in the whole para- 
graph, viz. to show that we see the relations of objects in the 
same way that we see the objects themselves. I must, how- 
ever, forbear all further remarks. My object in quoting the 
passage, was merely to guard the reader against what I, at 
least, deem a mistake upon the subject. 

The relations of objects are not, I apprehend, perceived ; 
our conceptions of them owe their existence to a power of the 
mind distinct from perception, though the exercise of that power 
may invariably accompany the simultaneous perception of two 
or more objects. The writer, to whom I have just referred, 
has overlooked this. He takes it for granted that, because we 
are made acquainted with the relations of objects at; the same 
time that we are made acquainted with the objects themselves, 
we become acquainted with both by perception. This is not 
the case, I imagine, 

* Edinburgh Encyclopaedia-- article Logic, p. 124. 



212 RELATIONS NOT PERCEIVED. 

Firsts because brutes have no knowledge of the relations of 
objects ; at any rate, their conceptions of relations, if even they 
have any, are so faint and imperfect, as to prove that the know- 
ledge of relations is not introduced into the mind by perception. 
For in perception, or sensation, they are equal to man. Their 
senses of smell, and of sight, are not inferior to ours. If, then, 
brutes see things as distinctly as we do, and if relations are ob- 
jects of vision, why have they not as accurate a knowledge of 
relations as we possess ? 

Secondly, The term relation, in its application to objects, 
does not, at any rate, always denote any thing that essentially 
belongs to those objects ; and, therefore, relations cannot be per- 
ceived. This statement may be illustrated by a reference to 
the relation of size. We perceive two men ; we instantly say 
of one, he is tall — of the other, he is short. We see that it is 
so, says an objector. I answer no ; because tallness is not an 
object of sight ; it is not an absolute quality — it is not some- 
thing actually existing in him, like the color of his skin. All 
that is to be perceived, in this individual, would be perceived, 
if no man besides himself were in existence ; but in that case 
he would appear to us neither tall nor short. The following 
statement of Dr. Brown deserves the most attentive consid- 
eration : — " The tallness of a tree, the lowness of a shrub, or 
weed, as these relative terms are used by us in opposition, do 
not express any real quality of the tree, or shrub, or weed, but 
only the fact that our mind has considered them together ; all 
which they express, is the mere comparison that is in us, not 
any quality in the external objects ; and yet we can scarcely 
bring ourselves to think, but that, independently of this com- 
parison, there is some quality in the tree which corresponds 
with our notion of tallness, and some opposite quality in the 
shrub or weed, which corresponds with our notion of shortness, 
or lowliness ; so that the tree would deserve the name of tall, 
though it were the only object in existence ; and the shrub, or 
weed, in like manner, the epithet of lowly, though it alone ex- 
isted, without a single object with which it could be compared. 
These instances, as I have said, are simple, but they will not 
be the less useful in preparing your minds for considering the 
more important natures of relation in general, that imply, in- 
deed, always some actual qualities in the objects themselves, 
the perception of which leads us afterwards to consider them 
as related, but no actual quality in either of the objects that 
primarily and directly corresponds with the notion of the rela- 
tion itself, as these are qualities of objects that correspond di- 



RELATIONS OF CO-EXISTENCE. 213 

rectly with our sensations of warmth or color, or any other of 
the sensations excited immediately by external things. The 
relation is, in every sense of the word, mental, not merely as 
being a feeling of the mind, for our knowledge of the qualities 
of external things is, in this sense, equally mental ; but as hav- 
ing its cause and origin directly in the very nature of the mind 
itself, which cannot regard a number of objects without form- 
ing some comparison, and investing them consequently with a 
number of relations."* 

Thirdly, We recognize relations in those objects of thought 
which never can become objects of perception. Hope and ex- 
pectation, we at once say, resemble each other ; joy and grief 
are opposite to each other. Our conceptions of relations are 
not then to be traced to our sensitive powers ; t. e. they are not 
perceptions. They presuppose another and a very different 
power. " When equal objects are presented," to refer again to 
the statements of the Encyclopadia, we do not " see that they 
agree," but are apprised of that fact by the faculty which re- 
cognizes relations, and which our Maker has added to the 
powers of external perception, though it is not necessarily con- 
nected with them. 

The relations which this general faculty recognizes in exter- 
nal objects, or internal affections, are innumerable ; but they 
admit of a very easy classification according as they involve, 
or do not involve, the notion of time. The latter are called by 
Dr. Brown, relations of co-existence, — the former, relations 
of succession. Whatever be thought of this phraseology, there 
is a broad line of distinction between these two classes of re- 
lations. I think of the three angles of a triangle, and of two 
right angles, and immediately recognize the relation of equali- 
ty as subsisting between them, — a relation which involves no 
notion of time. I think again of the ascent of the sun above 
the horizon, and of the arrival of full and perfect day, and re- 
cognize the relation of priority and subsequence, — the one 
event is the cause, the other is the effect. 

Species I. 
Relations of Co-existence. 

These relations are recognized in objects which really co- 
exist without us, or in affections of the mind which co-exist in 

* Vol. i. pp. 99, 100. Vide also vol. ii. pp. 181-2, 193, 459, 471. 
19 



2fl4 RESEMBLANCE, 

the manner formerly explained,* or which are considered by us 
as if they constituted parts of what are in reality simple states 
of mind. In this species are included Relations of Position* 
Resemblance or Difference, Proportion, Degree, and Compre- 
hension. To illustrate the whole of them is impossible ; it must 
suffice to notice one or two. On contemplating a machine, and 
its system of wheels and pulleys, we recognize the relation of 
the parts of one complex object to the whole. We not only- 
see all that is to be seen, but we form a conception of a rela- 
tion — the relation of comprehension — which is not, as we have 
seen, an object of perception, and the notion of which would 
never arise, had we not the power of relative suggestion, or the 
faculty of recognizing relations. On contemplating two such 
machines, we in like manner not only see all that is to be seen, 
but we recognize their resemblance to each other, which, not 
being a quality of either, is not an object of perception. I have 
particularly referred to these relations — the relations of resem- 
blance, and of comprehension — on account of their especial 
importance, which it will be necessary to illustrate at some 
length. 

To begin with Resemblance, I observe that the faculty 
which recognizes this relation, is not merely, as it must be 
obvious to all, the foundation of the imitative arts, but the 
source of classification, and, consequently, of general terms ; 
without which language, consisting only of particular terms? 
and each tree, and house, and object of every description, re- 
quiring a proper name, would be a burden under which the 
mightiest mind must sink. 

On perceiving various objects simultaneously, the power of 
relative suggestion enables us to recognize the various points 
in which they resemble each other ; and hence to classify 
them, or arrange them in different divisions, — for classifica- 
tion is grounded on resemblance, those objects being placed 
in the same division which bear this relation to one another. 
Were we possessed of the power of perception merely, the re- 
semblances, of which we speak, would no more strike us than 
the brutes around us. Endowed, however, as we are, with 
the faculty of recognizing relations, we become immediately 
aware that some agree, in contradistinction from others, in 
possessing a principle of vitality. Of these, some have rea- 
son, others not. Of the irrational tribes, some are covered 
with hair, others with scales, others again with feathers ; many 

* Vide p. 30-36. 



QENEHAL 1EHMS AND IDEAS. 215 

have four legs, several only two. And thus what would other- 
wise have been an indiscriminate mass of beings, separates, in 
our mental vision, into distinct classes ; while, to give utter- 
ance to those notions of resemblance which arose in our minds 
on the perception of these objects, and which were the spring 
and the guide of this mental classification, or rather perhaps 
which constitute it, we invent general terms, which are words 
designed to express the common resemblance recognized by us 
in objects ichich we thus class together. ** That in looking at 
a horse, an ox, or a sheep, we should be struck with a feeling 
of their resemblance, in certain respects — that to those re- 
spects in which they are felt to resemble each other, we should 
give a name, as we give a name to each of them individually, 
comprehending under the general name such objects only as 
excite, when compared together with others, the feeling of this 
particular relation, — all this has surely nothing very mysteri- 
ous about it. It would, indeed, be more mysterious if, per- 
ceiving the resemblances of objects that are constantly around 
*js, we did not avail ourselves of language, as a mode of com- 
municating to others our feelings of the resemblance, as we 
avail ourselves of it in the particular denomination of the indi- 
vidual, to inform others of that particular object of which we 
speak ; and to express the common resemblance which we 
feel by any word, is to have invented already a general term 
significant of the felt relation."* 

No process could be more simple and beautiful than the 
one which is thus described by Dr. Brown. That great Being 
who formed the mind, has imparted to it, not merely the power 
of perceiving the individual objects by which we are surround- 
ed, but also of recognizing the resemblances which exist 
among them. This notion of their resemblance constitutes 
what we call a general idea — which idea, or notion, is embo- 
died in a general term, as a particular notion, or our notion of 
an individual is expressed by a particular term or a proper 
name. " In the first place;" says Dr. Brown, " there is the 
perception of two or more objects ; in the second place, the 
feeling or notion of their resemblance, immediately subsequent 
to the perception ; and, lastly, the expression of this common 
relative feeling by a name, which is used afterwards as a ge- 
neral denomination, for all those objects, the perception of 
which is followed by the same common feeling" (or notion) " of 
resemblance."* 

* Brown, vol. ii. pp. 482-3. 
P, 485. Vide also Welsh's Memoir of Dr. Brown, p. 271-274. 



216 NOMINALISTS AND REALISTS. 

I have dwelt the longer upon this subject, because the state- 
ments which have been given, appear to me to remove entirely 
the veil of darkness which, till the time of Dr. Brown, hung 
over the points in controversy between the Nominalists and the 
Realists. During the reign of the Peripatetic philosophy, when 
ideas were regarded, as we have seen, not merely as something 
distinct from the mind, but as images of external objects, it 
could not fail to form a perplexing question, "What are general 
ideas ?" The species, or images of the Peripatetics, resem- 
bled, of course, the objects from which they came. But all ob- 
jects of perception are particular objects: there is no individual 
being answering, for instance, to our general notion of a quad- 
ruped. It followed then, on their principles, as there could be 
no perception but by images — either that we have images, which 
are images in fact of nothing — or that we have no general 
ideas corresponding to general terms ; and that words are the 
only objects of our thoughts in all our general speculations. 
This was the controversy that existed between the Nominalists 
and Realists — a controversy, which, in the strong language of 
John of Salisbury, even at that early period of which alone he 
could speak, had already employed fruitlessly more time and 
thought than " the whole race of the Csesars had found neces- 
sary for acquiring and exercising the sovereignty of the world." 

Since the decline of the Peripatetic philosophy, the strict and 
proper realism of the ancient school has appeared in too gro- 
tesque a garb, to allow of its making its appearance even in 
the company of philosophers, Most of our modern writers 
have been Nominalists — and some of them Nominalists in the 
strictest sense of the word. Hobbes expressly states, not 
merely " that words are essential to general reasonings, and 
that without them all our conclusions would be particular, but 
that it is words which give to our conclusions all their generali- 
ty." And Mr. Stewart states, that '* There are only two ways 
in which we can possibly speculate about classes of objects ; 
the one, by means of a word or generic term ; the other, by 
means of one particular individual of the class, which we con- 
sider as the representative of the rest ; and that these two 
methods of carrying on our general speculations, are at bottom 
so much the same, as to authorize us to lay it down as a princi- 
ple, that, without the use of signs, all our thoughts must have 
related to individuals. When we reason, therefore, concerning 
classes or genera, the objects of our attention are merely signs ; 
or if, in any instance, the generic word should recall some in- 
dividual, this circumstance is to be regarded only as the con- 



NOMINALISM OPPOSED. 2l7 

sequence of an accidental association, which has rather a ten- 
dency to disturb than to assist us in our reasoning."* 

With all my respect for Mr. Stewart, I am constrained to 
join Dr. Brown in thinking, that this rigid nominalism — the 
doctrine, that is, which affirms that we have only perceptions 
(which are necessarily individual or particular — there being no 
classes of objects in nature) and general terms, to which no 
corresponding notion is to be, or can be attached — is not more 
rational than the realism of the ancient schools. " The very 
statement of the opinion itself is almost a sufficient confuta- 
tion ;" for, 

First, It supposes the invention of a word without necessi- 
ty ; for a word which was not designed to embody a notion that 
had arisen in the mind, was manifestly unnecessary and use- 
less at its origin, and must remain so to the present day. Now 
to suppose the invention or adoption of a word without neces- 
sity — a word which was not intended to express, and which 
•does not express, what we perceive, or think, or feel, — is to 
suppose what I can regard as nothing less than a self-evident 
absurdity. Such a word would be an effect without a cause. 
Had it not been for the miserable controversy to which I have 
referred, no one, C apprehend, would have doubted that thought 
must, in all cases, precede language — that ideas, or notions, 
must exist before words. This is felt by every one, in refer- 
ence to words which are appropriated to individuals, that is, 
proper names. We never invent and employ a proper name 
before the notion of the individual, who is to bear hyenas 
arisen in the mind. The very thought of acting in this manner 
involves absurdity. W 7 hy then should the invention of a gene- 
ral term, previous to the rise of a general notion, and to which 
no general notion is ever to be attached, be regarded as less 
absurd ? It is in vain to attempt to reply to this reasoning by 
saying, that there are many who contend they have no general 
notions ; for it may be answered, first, that general terms 
were in use before their day, and may have been the invention 
— if they proceeded from man — of those who had general no- 
tions ; and, secondly, that though the individuals referred to 
have no general notions in their system, they have them,like 
all other men, in their minds ,• for, as a 

Second objection against their doctrine, I observe, with Dr» 
Brown, " that their extension of general terms to some objects 
only, not to all objects, implies some reason for this limitation 

* Vol. i. pp. 190-L 
19* 



218 NOMINALISM OPPOSED. 

— some feeling of the general agreement of the objects includ- 
ed in the class, to distinguish them from the objects not includ- 
ed in it, which is itself that very general notion professedly de- 
nied." We have, it is admitted, general terms ; now, if these 
terms have no meaning, where can be the impropriety of ar- 
ranging, in the same class, and designating by the same name, 
objects the most dissimilar in their nature ? What can there 
have been to prevent such a classification? Why has it not, 
in point of fact, been made? On what principle has all classi- 
fication actually proceeded ? How can a Nominalist defend 
one mode, and repudiate another? It cannot be because he 
recognizes resemblances in some objects, and not in others ; 
because, if he has a notion of resemblance, he has a general 
notion — a notion, that is, of a mere relation — of something, in 
other words, that does not, it may be, exist in the objects them- 
selves, like their color, which would appear precisely as it does 
to us at present, even if all objects but the particular object 
one contemplated, were annihilated ; but which is immediately 
subsequent to the perception, or conception, of two or more 
objects, like the galvanic effect upon the tongue, produced by 
placing it between zinc and silver. I mean that, consistently 
with his system, it cannot be thus ; though in point of fact it 
cannot possibly be otherwise. For what do the Nominalists 
mean by the classes, and kinds of objects, of which they speak, 
and to which they confine the application of the general term ? 
The very phraseology necessarily supposes the previous recog- 
nition of resembling qualities in the respective objects of each 
class ; and this recognition — this notion of a common relation, 
is the general idea the existence of which they deny. What 
does Mr. Stewart mean by the " common properties" of a class 
— the " circumstances in which the subject of our reasoning 
resembles all other individuals of the same genus," — " the 
particular quality or qualities in which the individuals resem- 
ble other individuals of the same class, and in consequence of 
which a generic name is applied to it ?" This language seems 
to me necessarily to imply all for which Dr. Brown contends 
in the following passage, though it altogether subverts the sys- 
tem of Nominalism. " We perceive two objects : this is one 
state of the mind. We are struck with the feeling of their re- 
semblance in certain respects : this is a second state of the 
mind. We then, in the third stage, give a name to these cir- 
cumstances of felt resemblance, a name which is, of course, 
applied afterwards only where this relation of similarity is felt. 
It is unquestionably not the name which produces the feeling 



THE NATURE OF GENERAL NOTIONS. 219 

of resemblance, but the feeling of resemblance which leads to 
the invention, or application of the name ; for it would be equal- 
ly just and philosophic to say that it is the name of the individual, 
John, or William, which gives existence to the individual, John, 
or William, and that he was nobody, or nothing, till the name, 
which made him something, was given, — as to say that the 
name man, which includes both John and William, is that which 
constitutes our relative notion of the resemblance of John and 
William, expressed by their common appellation ; and that, but 
for the name, we could not have conceived them to have any 
common or similar properties, — that is to say, could not have 
had any general relative notion, or general idea, as it has been 
wrongly called, of human nature, of the respects in which John, 
William, and all other individual men agree."* 

The remark of Dr. Brown is of great importance, that, when 
we speak of our invention of a general term, the phraseology 
exclusively applies to us, in the present mature state of our 
language. If language be of human origin, there is little doubt 
that Dr. Smith has correctly described the manner in which 
general terms came into actual use. The first words must 
have been, in that case, proper names. These names were af- 
terwards extended to similar objects ; the feeling of resem- 
blance going before the extension, and guiding it — or why did 
not the savage give the name " cave " (the word by which he 
had designated the first place of that kind in which he found 
shelter) to the first tree he afterwards met with ? And though 
there is, in my judgment, sufficient reason to think that lan- 
guage was not of human origin, many words are unquestiona- 
bly so ; and, in the invention and application of every new ge- 
neral term, we act on the very principles by which we have 
supposed the savage to be governed. " The general term is 
not the cause of the generalization ; it is not at all essential to 
it ; it is only the record of a generalization previously made." 
It is an " abridgment of language " rendering us capable of 
acquiring and communicating information with a facility and a 
speed incomparably greater than could have been the case if 
language had consisted of proper names alone. 

Before quitting this part of the subject, it will be necessary 
to put the reader on his guard against supposing that a general 
notion is a kind of picture of an individual object of the class, 
comprising those qualities, and those qualities only, which be- 
long to the whole class. Mr. Locke seems to have fallen into 

* Vol. ii. pp. 506-7. 



220 JUDGING, REASONING, 

this mistake. " Does it not," says he, " require some pains 
and skill to form the general idea of a triangle — for it must be 
neither oblong nor rectangular, neither equilateral, equicrural, 
nor scalene, but all, and none of them at once." We answer, 
the thing is impossible. A triangle must have individual pro- 
perties ; a general notion then of a triangle is a contradiction 
in terms. But we may have a notion of the particulars in which 
triangles resemble one another. Similar remarks may be made 
with reference to the supposed general notion of a man. " The 
general idea of a man," says Dr. Brown, " who is neither dark 
nor fair, tall nor short, fat nor thin, nor of any degree interme- 
diate between these extremes, and yet is, at the same time, dark 
and fair, tall and short, fat and thin, is that of which we may very 
safely deny the existence : for a man must be particular, and must 
therefore have particular qualities, and certainly cannot have qua- 
lities that are inconsistent. But a dark and a fair man, a tall and 
a short man, a fat and a thin man, all agree in certain respects, 
or, in other words, excite in us a certain relative feeling, or no- 
tion of general resemblance ; since, without a feeling of this 
kind, we never should have thought of classing them together 
under one general term. We have not a general idea of a man, 
but we are impressed with a certain common relation of simi- 
larity of all the individuals, whom, on that account, and on that 
account alone, we rank together under the common appellation 
of men."* 



Application of the foregoing Principles to the Phoznomena of 
Judging, Reasoning, <£c. fyc. 

These words, together with Abstraction, have been usually 
regarded as denoting distinct and original powers of the mind. 
I shall first give a statement of the sentiments of preceding 
philosophers, and then exhibit the light in which these supposed 
faculties are presented by the doctrines contained in the fore- 
going pages. Mr. Stewart, at the commencement of his se- 
cond volume, after animadverting upon the vagueness with 
which the words Reason, Reasoning, Understanding, Intellect, 
Judgment, &c. have been used by philosophers, proceeds to 

* Vol. ii. pp. 516-17. 



mr. Stewart's account of. 221 

fix the precise signification of each term. The word Reason 
was, he thinks, first used " to comprehend the principles, what- 
ever they are, by which man is distinguished from the brutes." 
" It denotes," he says, at present, " that power by which we 
distinguish truth from falsehood, and combine means for the at- 
tainment of our ends." He distinguishes between Reason and 
Reasoning — the latter expressing only, as he conceives, " one 
of the various functions and operations of Reason." The term 
Judgment, Mr. Stewart thinks, is nearly synonimous with Un- 
derstanding ; the phrases ' a sound understanding,' and * a 
sound judgment,' being equivalent, unless, indeed, the former 
implies a greater degree of positive ability than the latter. He 
says, however, that the meaning attached to the word Judg- 
ment, by logical writers, is very different. By them it is used 
to denote a simple undefinable act of the mind ; or the power 
by which we are enabled to pronounce concerning the truth or 
falsity of any proposition, or the probability or improbability of 
any event. Dr. Reid considers judgment as an act of the mind, 
by which one thing is affirmed or denied of another. He states, 
that the definition must be restricted to mental affirmation or 
denial. That restriction, however, appears in the definition it- 
self (an act of the mind,) though it has been overlooked both 
by Dr. Reid and Mr. Stewart ; for the expression of our judg- 
ments to others, is not an act of the mind, but of the organs of 
speech. The faculty of Judgment then, and the power of Rea- 
son, appear in the systems of these distinguished writers to be 
identical ; while Reasoning is a development or exertion of 
that power. 

To the general statements of Mr. Stewart much praise is 
due. They partake, however, too much perhaps of the cha- 
racter of mere verbal criticism ; and they appear to fail in 
exhibiting what takes place in the mind, when we are said to 
judge or reason. For since words, descriptive of mental states, 
or affections, or operations, can at most only express the opin- 
ions of men concerning their nature, we should, I apprehend, 
direct our attention more exclusively to the affections them- 
selves, than to the symbols by which we attempt to apprise 
others of their existence and nature. 

The strain of Mr. Stewart's remarks is doubtless directed 
by his opinion, that, as judgment, or reason, is a distinct fa- 
culty of the mind, it is as impossible to explain what takes 
place when we are said to form a judgment, as to experience 
a sensation. And if it cannot be proved that judgment may be 
resolved into a more general faculty of mind, Mr. Stewart is 



222 THE NATURE OP 

unquestionably right. We cannot explain what takes place in 
the mind, when the odor of the rose acts upon the organ, — or 
when we feel that two is to four, as four is to eight, because the 
sensation, and the conception of equality, are simple feelings, 
or states of mind ; and to explain any mental phenomenon is 
to resolve it into its elements, or constituent parts. We cannot, 
for this reason, explain the emotion of love ; but we can explain 
the feeling of jealousy ; i. e. we can point out the simple emo- 
tions which blend together, and constitute, by their union, this 
dreadful and destructive passion. 

Is there, then, any more general faculty into which the pow- 
ers of judging, reasoning, &c. may be resolved ? To this 
question, it is replied, that, if the truth of the preceding state- 
ments be admitted, the general power of recognizing resem- 
blances, or relations, will account for all the phenomena of 
reason, judgment, &c. If there be in the human mind the fa- 
culty of perceiving relations, why should we conceive of an- 
other power to distinguish truth from falsehood — to decide on 
the probability or improbability of any event — to combine means 
for the attainment of ends ? What is truth, in this connexion, 
but the conformity of words to things, i. e. a relation ? What 
is the probability of any event, but its accordance, or congruity, 
with the various circumstances of time, place, &c. in which it 
is said to have happened, i. e. a relation ? What is the adapta- 
tion of means to ends, but a relation ? And, if such be the case, 
surely the single power of recognizing relations, includes both 
reason and judgment, if there be conceived to be any differ- 
ence between them ; — as the principle of attraction accounts 
both for the resistance which a body offers to our attempts to 
stop its descent to the earth, and to raise it after it has fallen. 

From the great importance of this subject, however, we 
must devote a little more attention to it. Let us take then 
the following illustration : This picture resembles the original. 
The question is, "What takes place in the mind of an indi- 
vidual who asserts this V 1 It would be generally said, I pre- 
sume, that the picture, and the original, are first compared 
with each other — the mind then judges that the former resem- 
bles the latter — and finally gives expression to that judgment 
in the words to which reference has been made. Now, I 
would ask, what is this comparison, but the simultaneous, or 
the immediately successive perception of the picture and the 
original ? and what is the judgment which is said to be subse- 
quent to the comparison, but the recognition of a relation — 
the relation of resemblance, between the two objects of per- 






JUDGING DESCRIBED. 223 

ception — a recognition which requires a power distinct from 
perception — the power to which Dr. Brown has given the name 
of Relative Suggestion? No other power is necessary. 

An act of judgment, then, as it is called, when the words 
describe a mental operation, is nothing more than the recog- 
nition, or feeling, of some relation between 4wo or more ob- 
jects, which either present themselves to the senses, or are 
objects of conception. I judge that A is actually higher than 
B, though at first sight it might appear to be lower ; i. e. I re- 
cognize the relation of position which they bear to each other. 
I judge that this picture resembles my friend, in certain re- 
spects, and that it is entirely unlike him in others ; i. e. I am 
impressed with the relations of resemblance, and dissimilarity, 
which exist between the picture and my friend. I judge that 
two is to four, as this latter number is to eight ; i. e. I feel the 
relation of proportion which the numbers bear to one another. 
I judge that a house consists of its foundation, roof, different 
apartments, &c; i. e. I feel the relation of these parts to one 
comprehensive whole. In all these cases the recognized re- 
lation is different, but the power by which we recognize it is 
the same ; and, in each of them, it is the power by which we 
become sensible of relations in genefal. To admit into our 
enumeration of the mental faculties two distinct and original 
faculties — one to enable us to recognize relations, and another 
to enable us to judge, is an uncalled-for multiplication of ori- 
ginal faculties. And to retain the latter phraseology exclu- 
sively — to say we judge that one object is higher than another, 
that the picture resembles our friend, &c. — is not, perhaps, so 
well adapted to throw light upon what really takes place in the 
mind, as the phraseology which Dr. Brown's system would 
lead us in preference to adopt. 

Such, then, is a mental judgment — it is a mere feeling or 
notion of relation ; and when utterance is given to it by words, 
it becomes a proposition. Two are the half of four. The 
words embody a recognized relation between two and four. 
" The word animal," says Dr. Brown, " is a general term ex- 
pressive of a particular relation of resemblance that is felt by 
us. A horse is an animal, is a proposition which is merely a 
brief expression of this felt resemblance of a horse to various 
other creatures included by us in the general term." 

Propositions, then, being nothing more than expressions of 
relations of one kind or another, which we have previously re- 
cognized, may be, of course, as various as the relations them- 
selves which the human mind has been rendered capable of dis- 



224 JUDGING DESCRIBED. 

covering. These are, as we have seen, position, resemblance 
or difference, proportion, degree, and comprehension. We 
have seen [the importance of one of these relations, viz. re- 
semblance; the recognition of which is the basis, and the 
guide, of all classification. We proceed to exhibit the impor- 
tance of another, viz. comprehension ; the recognition of 
which is usually at least involved in what we call an act of rea- 
soning. Dr. Brown thinks that all these various relations may 
be resolved into the single relation of comprehension, or the 
relation of a whole to the separate parts included under it. It 
is not necessary, however, to push our analysis so far. To il- 
lustrate our meaning, we must explain what is meant by the 
term whole, in this connexion. A whole, then, be it observed, 
may be regarded by us as made up of parts, which admit of ac- 
tual separation from each other — as in the case of a book, and 
its covers, and leaves ; or of qualities, which have no indepen- 
dent existence — as when we say of gold, that it is ductile, yel- 
low, &c. And it must be especially observed, that the power 
by which we recognize the relation of comprehensiveness, is 
in both these cases the same. "A flake of snow," to borrow 
the admirable illustration of Dr. Brown, "is composed of par- 
ticles of snow which exist separately, and this composition of 
separate particles in seeming coherence, is one species of to- 
tality. But the same snow, without any integral division, may be 
considered by us as possessing various qualities, which quali- 
ties are parts of our complex notion of snow, as a substance."* 
And it is the faculty of relative suggestion, or the power of re- 
cognizing relations, which enables us to feel that the flake com- 
prehends the particles of which it is composed — and that our 
general notion of snow comprehends a notion of the various 
properties which it possesses. 

An affirmative proposition of this kind is, then, built upon a 
previously felt relation of comprehension; since it enumerates, 
or predicates, some quality or attribute of a subject, which may 
be said to form a part of the subject itself, and the notion of 
which is a constituent of our complex conception of the sub- 
ject. The one quality of which we speak is comprehended, 
and felt to be so, with other qualities, in that general aggregate 
to which we state it to belong. Gold is ductile ; i. e. our com- 
plex conception of gold comprehends the particular notion of 
ductility. Every affirmative proposition, then, of this kind, 
involves a mental analysis of a complex notion. Our notion 

* Vol. ii. pp. 540-1, 



REASONING DESCRIBED. 225 

of snow is complex ; i. e. it is as if it were made up of the con- 
ceptions of the individual qualities which it possesses. We 
cannot, accordingly, affirm snow to be white, till, by a process 
of mental analysis, we have ascertained that whiteness is a con- 
stituent part of our conception of snow ; though the proposi- 
tion itself re-unites this elementary part to the complex no- 
tion again. " It is, as it were," says Dr. Brown, " a little pro- 
cess of analysis and synthesis ; I decompose, and in express- 
ing verbally to others the mental decomposition which I have 
made, I combine again the separated elements of my thoughts ; 
not indeed, in the same manner — for the analytic process is as 
different as matter is to mind — but with the same feeling of 
agreement, or identity, which rises in the mind of a chemist 
when he has reduced to one mass the very elements into 
which he had previously transmuted the mass, by some one of 
the analyses of his wonderful art." 

The preceding remarks will prepare the way for the state- 
ment of Dr. Brown's doctrine concerning reasoning ; viz. that, 
as expressed in words, it consists in a connected series of pro- 
positions of the kind referred to above, each of which embodies 
and expresses a feeling of the relation of comprehension. Man 
is an intellectual being ; he should not, therefore, pursue the 
gratifications of sense only. The preceding sentence contains 
two distinct propositions ; and the whole is an effort of what 
is called Reasoning. Yet few things can be more manifest 
than that each of the propositions expresses nothing more than 
a recognized relation — the relation of comprehension. The 
first proposition exhibits something which forms a part of our 
complex notion of man, viz. intellect; the second, something 
which enters into our complex notion of an intellectual being ; 
viz. elevation above the pleasures of mere appetites. 

It is thus in the longest process of ratiocination. Such a 
process contains nothing but a series of propositions, embody- 
ing and giving utterance to a series of mental judgments, viz. 
notions of relations ; and " if we take away these consecutive 
judgments or feelings of relation, we leave nothing behind 
which can be called a ratiocination." "In a single proposition," 
says Dr. Brown, " we take one step or feel one relation ; in 
an enthymeme we take two steps, or feel two relations ; in 
a syllogism, we take three steps, or feel three relations ; 
whatever is affirmed in any stage of our reasonings, is a rela- 
tion of some sort, — of which, as felt by us, the proposition that 
affirms the relation is only a verbal statement."* 
* Vol. iii. p. 15. 
20 



226 THE NATURE OF 

All reasoning then, verbally expressed, consists of a series 
of propositions : it must, however, be especially observed, that 
every series of propositions does not constitute reasoning, 
God is infinitely wise ; man is prone to err ; heaven is the 
abode of happiness; hell the residence of misery and despair. 
Here is a series of propositions, each of them embodying a 
judgment, or the notion of a relation ; but there is no ratioci- 
nation here. To constitute reasoning, there must be a certain 
connexion in the propositions enunciated — a kind of thread 
must run through them — by which the last is connected as ef- 
fectually as the second with the first. There are, then, two 
inquiries which present themselves here. 

I. What is the nature of this connexion of the propositions 
in a process of reasoning ? and, 

II. What is the principle through the influence of which they 
arise in the mind in the order required ? 

I. What is the nature of this connexion of the propositions 
in a process of reasoning ? This will, perhaps, be best ascer- 
tained by examining a particular instance of reasoning. Let 
us take the following short one : — Man is possessed of intel- 
lect, will, freedom, &c. ; he is therefore a capable subject of 
moral government. In this example, the term man is what is 
called the subject of the first proposition ; and his affirmed ca- 
pability of moral government is denominated its predicate. It 
will be observed, however, that this predicate becomes the sub- 
ject of the second proposition, which, when fully expressed, 
stands as follows : — A being possessed of intellect, will, free- 
dom, &c. is a capable subject of moral government. We are 
accordingly led, by thrs particular instance, to the general doc- 
trine, that, to confer upon a series of propositions a claim to the 
character of reasoning, it is essential that the predicate of each 
of the propositions constitute the subject of the proposition 
which immediately follows it; in that case the predicate of the 
last will be as certainly connected with the subject of the first 
proposition, as though they stood in juxto-position. By length- 
ening the preceding series of propositions, the truth and impor- 
tance of this statement will be rendered apparent. 

Man is possessed of intellect, will, freedom, &c. 

The possessor of intellect, &c. &c. is a capable subject of 
moral government. 

A capable subject, &c. &c. may expect that his conduct will 
hereafter undergo the scrutiny of the Judge of all. 



BE.\S0NIN T G EXPLAINED. 227 

In the above series, it will be seen that the predicate of the 
first becomes the subject of the second proposition, — and the 
predicate of the second, the subject of the third : and, further, 
that the subject man of the first, is connected with the predicate 
of the last ; — thus, Man may expect that his conduct will here- 
after undergo the scrutiny of the Judge of all. The reason of 
this connexion will be apparent, when it is remembered that 
each of the predicates declares what is comprehended in the 
complex notion expressed by its subject. The possession of 
intellect, will, freedom, &c. is involved in our complex notion 
of man ; capacity of moral government is involved in our com- 
plex notion of a being possessing intellect, &c. &c. ; and the 
certainty of the scrutiny referred to is involved in our complex 
notion of a capable subject of moral government. Now, if the 
second is involved in the first — the third in the second — and 
the fourth in the third — it is manifest that the fourth is as really 
involved in the first, as in the third. And thus it is in every 
train of reasoning, however long that train may be. An analysis 
takes place in our minds of the complex notion denoted by the 
first, or original subject, in consequence of whieh we are ena- 
bled to predicate something of it. That which is thus predicat- 
ed undergoes a similar process of analysis, the result of which 
is embodied in the subsequent proposition ; so that when we 
arrive at the conclusion, how distant soever it may be, the last 
predicate is as truly contained in the first,, as its particular pre- 
dicate, though it does not become visible to us till exhibited, as 
it were, in its elementary state, by the repetition of analysis after 
analysis. Dr. Brown compares the process to the decomposi- 
tions of the chemist, in which, after analyses almost without 
number have been effected, the last or ultimate substance 
which is developed by the art of the chemist, was as truly in- 
volved in the substance upon which his operations commenced, 
as in that from which it was immediately produced. 

II. What is the principle through the influence of which the 
propositions, in a train of reasoning, arise in the mind in the 
order required, i. e. in such a manner as to evolve the ultimate 
truth developed — or to show the connexion which exists be- 
tween the original subject and the last predicate, in this series 
of propositions ? To illustrate this subject, let us suppose our- 
selves possessed of an obscure conception that the conduct of 
man must undergo the scrutiny of the Judge of all. We exa- 
mine what would be the subject and predicate here, if the con- 
ception were embodied in a proposition ; and we do it without 
obtaining full conviction, because their relation, or agreement, 



228 ORDER OF CONCEPTIONS 

does not, perhaps, immediately appear. In order to this, cer- 
tain other conceptions must arise in the mind — the conception 
of man, for instance, as the possessor of intellect, &c. &c. — 
the conception that a possessor of intellect, &c. &c. is a ca- 
pable and an actual subject of moral government. How then 
do these conceptions arise in the mind, or, which is the same 
thing, the propositions in which they are embodied ? Are they 
to be ascribed to what is called the sagacity of an individual, 
enabling him to perceive that they may be used as a kind of 
common measure, somewhat in the same way that a portable 
piece of wood is applied to two immovable blocks, to ascer- 
tain whether their lengths are equal, or the contrary ? This is, 
no doubt, the common opinion on the subject. " We have a 
certain sagacity," we are told by one writer, " by which we 
find out the intervening propositions that are so ; and they are 
arranged in this order, because we have discovered them to 
be suitable for our measurement, and put them in their pro- 
per place." " These intervening ideas, which serve to show 
the agreement of any two others," says Mr. Locke, " are call- 
ed proofs. A quickness in the mind to find out these interme- 
diate ideas, (that shall discover the agreement or disagreement 
of any other,) and to apply them rightly, is, I suppose, that 
which is called sagacity." And, in another part of his work, he 
defines Reason " as that faculty which finds out these means 
and rightly applies them." 

Dr. Brown maintains, on the other hand, that the interven- 
ing conceptions arise through the influence of the faculty of 
suggestion, and according to certain laws " which are inde- 
pendent alike of our skill, and of any efforts which that skill 
might direct." The conceptions which occur in our trains of 
thought do not, as we have seen, follow each other loosely, but 
according to certain relations. There is a relation between 
the notion of man, and the notion of intellect — a similar relation 
between the notion of a being possessing intellect, &c. &c. and 
of one who is capable of moral government, — and finally, a 
third relation between the conception of a being who is capa- 
ble of moral government, and of one whose conduct must un- 
dergo the scrutiny of the judgment day. These different con- 
ceptions, then, may arise, and arise in this order, by the faculty 
of simple suggestion; and they might have arisen, had we been 
constituted differently, without the recognition of any relation 
in the parts of the train. Possessed, however, as we are of the 
faculty of relative suggestion, the notion of man has no sooner 
introduced that of intellect, &c. &c. than we feel the relation 



NOT DEPENDENT ON VOLITION. 2^ 

which exists between them ; and so in the following members 
of the train, till the relation between man and the certain scru- 
tiny of the judgment day is at length evolved. 

The same writer shows most clearly, that the intervening 
conceptions in a train of reasoning cannot arise by an act of 
will ; and that the discovery which they enable us to make* of 
the existing relation between the subject of the first proposi- 
tion and the predicate of the last, is not the result of any in- 
tentional application of them for that purpose. " A and D are 
before us, and have a relation which is at present unknown, but 
a relation which would be evolved to us, if B and C were to 
arise to our mind. Do they then arise at our bidding? 
Or do they arise without being subject to our command, and 
without obeying it 1 After the remarks which I have made 
in reference to intellectual phenomena, in some degree 
analogous, I trust that you are able of yourselves to decide 
this question, by the argument which I used on the occasions 
to which I refer. The mind, it can scarcely fail to occur to 
you, cannot will the conception of B or C, however essential 
they may be to our reasoning ; since to will them — at least if 
we know what we will, which is surely essential to volition — 
implies the existence of the very conceptions which we are 
said to will, as states of the mind present, and prior to the exist- 
ence of that sagacity which is said to produce them. If B and 
C, therefore, arise to our thoughts, in the case supposed by us, 
it cannot be because we have willed them, but they must rise 
in consequence of laws of mind that are independent of our 
volition. In short, we do not find them out, as Locke says, 
but they come to us ; and when they have thus risen in our 
mind, we do not apply them, as he says, because we regard 
them as suitable ; but the relation which is involved in them 
is felt, without any intentional application, merely in conse- 
quence of their presence together in the mind. The skillful 
application, indeed, of which he speaks, involves an error of 
precisely the same kind as that which is involved in the asser- 
tion of the volition of the particular conceptions which are said 
to be thus applied. It necessarily assumes the existence of the 
very relative feeling, for the rise of which it professes to ac- 
count ; since, without this previous feeling, the comparative 
suitableness of one medium of proof, rather than another, wpu$! e 
not be known. The right application of fit conceptions- to 5! 
conceptions, in the choice of intermediate ideas, presupposes 
then, in the very sagacity which is said to apply them rightly, a 
knowledge of the relation which the intermediate idea bears to 

20* 



230 UNEQUAL STRENGTH OF SUGGESTING PRINCIPLE- 

the object to which it is applied ; — of the very relation, for dis- 
covering which alone, it is of any consequence that the inter* 
mediate idea should be applied."* 

He afterwards adds, — and I believe the statement includes 
every thing of which we are really conscious in what we call an 
effort of reasoning, — " If we wish to ascertain the proportion 
of A to D, the conception of these, as long as the wish which 
involves them remains, must, by the simple laws of suggestion, 
excite other conceptions related to them ; and in the multitude 
of relative objects thus capable of being suggested, it is not 
wonderful that there should be some one, B or C, which has a 
common relation to both A and D ; and which, therefore, be- 
comes a measure for comparing them, or suggests this very 
relation without any intentional comparison. "j" 

The sagacity of Locke, then, seems to be nothing more 
than a general vigor and richness in the principle of sugges- 
tion, in consequence of which a vast variety, both of objects 
and relations, arise to the mind ; by means of some of which, 
the connexion is established between those subjects of our 
thoughts whose relation we wished to ascertain. 

We are all aware of the different length of time which is oc- 
cupied, by different minds, in travelling from the original pre- 
mises to the ultimate conclusion. This may result from two 
causes. 

I. From the different degree of rapidity with which the 
mind, in consequence of the unequal strength of the suggest- 
ing principle, runs through, so to speak, the series of proposi- 
tions which are usually necessary to connect the original sub- 
ject with the ultimate predicate ; or, 

II. From the different number of steps, so to speak, which 
different minds require to take in arriving at the ultimate con- 
clusion. " There are minds," says Dr. Brown, " which merely 
by considering man, and opinion, and punishment, (referring to 
his own illustration of the process of reasoning,) would dis- 
cover, without an intervening proposition, that fallible man 
ought not to set himself in judgment as a punisher of the 
speculative errors of fallible man ; there are others, perhaps, 
who might not see the conclusion without the whole series of 
propositions enumerated, though the conclusion is involved, as 
an element, in the first proposition, man is fallible ; and, ac- 
cording as the particular intellect is more or less acute, more 
or fewer of the intervening propositions will be necessary. "J 

* Vol. ii. pp. 561-563. t Pp. 573-4. * Vol. ii. p. 544. 



NATURE OF ABSTRACTION. 231 

Some highly gifted individuals comprehend the various sub- 
jects which engage their attention, at a single glance. When 
others reach their conclusions by a slow and laborious process, 
they gain theirs, as it were, by a single bound. We talk of 
their possessing an intuitive perception of things ; and seem 
to think that they gain their knowledge, by a process strictly 
sui generis. In reality, however, there is no radical difference. 
There is as true a connexion between the first subject and the 
last predicate, in any series of propositions constituting ratioci- 
nation, as between that subject, and its immediate predicate. 
It is not in itself, then, more wonderful that this connexion 
should strike one man, and not another, than that any relation 
whatever should be recognized by one man, and not by ano- 
ther. The radical cause of the difference, in both cases, is, it 
is conceived, the different proportionable vigor, &c. of the 
principle of suggestion. 

ABSTRACTION. 

By most writers on mental science, Abstraction has been 
regarded as a distinct, and original faculty, of the nature and 
office of which the following account has been given. 

Every object which presents itself to our view, possesses a 
combination of qualities. To attain a knowledge of these 
qualities, it is necessary to consider them separately. Our at- 
tention must be directed to each distinct part of the combina- 
tion, as if it were a separate object. This individual contem- 
plation of qualities, necessarily supposes the existence of a 
faculty by which the mind separates the combinations which 
are presented to it ; to this faculty the name of Abstraction is 
given. 

It is necessary, however, to observe, that the precise office 
of this supposed faculty, is not always definitely described. It 
is sometimes represented as the separate consideration of one 
object, or quality, which presents itself in connexion with 
others. We can think, for instance, exclusively of the separate 
parts of any material or mechanical whole, — of the qualities of 
bodies, without regarding the substances in which they inhere. 
In this manner, it is said, " We can think of the leaves of a 
tree, distinct from the root — of the color and length of an ob- 
ject, distinct from its figure and breadth — of the soul as dis- 
tinct from the body — and of one affection of mind, as distinct 
from all others." At other times, the faculty of abstraction is 



232 STATEMENTS OF MR. STEWART. 

represented as the withdrawment of the mind from all the other 
qualities of the combination, in order to the individual consid- 
eration of one, which we wish particularly to examine. Mr. 
Stewart, at one time, tells us that " Abstraction is that faculty 
by which the mind separates the combinations which are pre- 
sented to it ; " and at another, that it is " the power by which 
certain qualities are considered apart from the rest." Thus we 
have at least three definitions of Abstraction. It is the power 
of withdrawing the mind from certain qualities, when a combi- 
nation is presented — the powei of separating the qualities, in 
this combination — the power of considering one of them, apart 
from the rest, after the separation has been effected. 

In reference to the preceding statements, it is cheerfully 
conceded, that we do, in point of fact, frequently regard one 
object, or quality, apart from all others ; but the reader is re- 
quested to consider, whether a distinct faculty of mind is re- 
quired to enable us to do this. On the principles of Mr. Stew- 
art himself, what is this separate consideration of qualities, but 
attention to them 1 " Abstraction," he tells us, " is that power 
by which certain qualities are considered apart from the rest." 
" Attention," he defines "as an effort of mind to detain the 
perception of an object, (or a quality,) and to contemplate it 
exclusively of every thing else." Unless, then, Mr. S. makes 
some nice distinction between an effort to contemplate quali- 
ties apart from the rest, and the actual contemplation of them, 
Abstraction and Attention are, on his system, identical. If this 
distinction is made by him, it follows that the actual conside- 
ration of a particular quality is abstraction ; and that the men- 
tal effort thus to consider it, is attention ; a statement which 
is, to my mind, almost equivalent with the declaration, that at- 
tention is an effort to be attentive ! 

And if the consideration of certain qualities apart from the 
rest, be regarded as an exercise of the faculty of Abstraction, 
why should not the notice which is given to thousands of in- 
dividual objects, every day of our lives, be considered a mani- 
festation of the same faculty? The sound of thunder is heard, 
we listen to nothing else. A meteor darts across the sky, we 
see nothing else. An officer pursues a suspected thief through 
the intricacies of a crowded city, he observes nothing else. Is 
the separate consideration which is thus given to these things 
an effort of abstraction ? 

If it be said that the withdrawment of the mind from other 
objects, that it may give its attention to those to which refer- 
ence has been just made, is an exercise of abstraction, I an- 



NO INTENTIONAL SEPARATION, &c. 233 

swer that the mind cannot be said, with any propriety, to with- 
draw itself. It does not have those which cease to excite its 
interest, but is attracted by others which awaken a deeper in- 
terest. It will be found, I believe, to be a truth confirmed by 
experience, that neither qualities, nor objects, will excite the 
separate consideration of the mind, in the sense which Mr. 
Stewart attaches to the words, which do not awaken some 
strong emotion. It is the excited emotion which detains, so to 
speak, the perception, or conception, by which it was occa- 
sioned, while, by a law of the mind, to which reference was 
made in considering the phenomena of attention, all accom- 
panying perceptions, or conceptions, fade and disappear. The 
mind is accordingly said to withdraw itself from certain ob- 
jects, or qualities, that it may fix its undivided attention upon 
others. 

Should it be alledged that abstraction, strictly speaking, is 
a separation of combinations of qualities — the withdrawment 
of some from the rest, for the purpose of individual and atten- 
tive examination, — I would ask, what is meant by the state- 
ment ? It is impossible to withdraw qualities from the sub- 
stances in which they are to be found. It is further impossible 
to effect an actual separation in the combinations of qualities 
which present themselves to us. We can neither separate the 
color from the gold, nor its yellowness from its ductility. If it 
be said we can separate them mentally, I ask again, " what 
is this mental separation, but a separate consideration of the 
qualities ?" Do we any otherwise separate the ductility of 
gold from its color, than by thinking of its ductility, and not 
thinking of its color? This will not be pretended. But, it will 
be said, we can thus mentally separate one quality from a com- 
bination of qualities, with a view to a more particular exami- 
nation. I answer, that the statement involves a contradiction ; 
it supposes that the separation is already made, when the men- 
tal effort is put forth by which it is to be effected. To attempt 
to separate the color from the gold, supposes (if we know 
what we attempt) that we have separately considered or 
thought of the color; i. e. that the abstraction is made, before 
we attempt to make it. " If by this," (viz. the power of sepa- 
rating combinations,) says Mr. Welsh, "it is implied that the 
mind has a power of intentional separation, the existence of 
the faculty of abstraction must be altogether denied. The ex- 
ertion of such a power would, in every instance, involve a con- 
tradiction ; for the state preceding the intentional separation, 



234 ABSTRACTION AND GENERALIZATION. 

involves the very abstraction which it is supposed to produce. 
If we know the part that we single out, we have already per- 
formed all the separation that is necessary ; if we do not know 
what we are singling out he separate part of the complex 
whole may indeed arise to our conception, but the operation 
of a peculiar faculty is not necessary to account for it thus 
arising."* Any part of a whole may arise by one of the laws 
of simple suggestion ; and in this way we are led to the sepa- 
rate consideration of that part, without any intentional with- 
drawment of the mind from the rest. 

This supposed faculty of abstraction has been regarded as 
the ground-work of generalization. " The classification of 
different objects," says Mr. Stewart, " supposes a power of 
attending to some of their qualities or attributes, without at- 
tending to the rest ; for no two objects are to be found without 
some specific difference ; and no assortment or arrangement 
can be formed among things not perfectly alike, but by losing 
sight of their distinguishing peculiarities, and limiting the at- 
tention to those attributes which belong to them in common."")" 
On this statement it is obvious to remark, that it does not in- 
form us how the common resembling qualities are recognized 
by the mind ; for the mere act of attention to the attributes of 
various bodies would not apprise us of their differences, or 
their resemblances, if we had not the faculty of recognizing 
relations in general. We are not however left, as we have seen, 
without this faculty ; and the possession of it renders unneces- 
sary the supposed distinct powers of abstraction and generali- 
zation ; for the latter, as well as the former, is by some con- 
sidered an original faculty. To recognize relations is, in fact, 
to generalize. At any rate, when a relation of resemblance is 
felt, no other power, certainly, is necessary to guide us in 
classing together all those objects which agree in exciting this 
common relative feeling. There is no need to withdraw the 
mind from their distinguishing peculiarities ; nor, indeed, can 
this be done by an act of volition. The interest excited by the 
discovery of their common resembling qualities, will, on prin- 
ciples formerly explained, cause the perception or conception 
of their peculiarities or diversities to fade and disappear. J 

Thus classification, and generalization, are the result not of 
abstraction, but of suggestion ; or of that faculty by which we 
recognize relations. " In consequence of this principle of our 
minds," says Dr. Brown, " we are almost incessantly feeling 

* Memoirs, pp. 289-90. f Vol. i. p. 155. % Vide p. 273. 



RELATIONS OF SUCCESSION. 235 

some relation of similarity in objects, and omitting in conse- 
quence, in this feeling of resemblance, the parts or circum- 
stances of the complex whole* in which no similarity is felt. 
What is thus termed abstraction, is the very notion of partial 
similarity."* 

Our abstract notions of qualities, &c. are also derived from 
this faculty. Objects become known to us only by their quali- 
ties ; the resemblances, accordingly, which we recognize in 
objects, must be in one or more of their qualities. It some- 
times happens that our attention is directed chiefly to the ob- 
jects as possessing similar qualities. Cl But there are other 
cases in which our attention is directed to the resembling 
qualities, without referring them to the objects in which they 
reside. Thus in looking at snow, we feel a resemblance in the 
color to that of a swan ; and making the quality, and not the 
subject, the object of our thoughts, we have the notion of white- 
ness."! 

Abstraction is not, then, an original power ; the phenomena 
which have been usually ascribed to it, may all be resolved 
into the faculty of suggestion. 



Species II. 
Relations of Succession. 

These relations involve the notion of time ; indeed the con- 
nexion which their subjects bear to each other, as prior or pos- 
terior, constitutes the very relation to which we now refer. 

Of events and feelings which stand in this relation to each 
other, some may be casually prior, or posterior, and others 
may be permanently and invariably so. 

On the occurrence of two events or feelings, of this latter 
class, one of which is the immediate antecedent of the other, 
the notion of their relation, as cause and effect, arises in the 
mind — a conception, that is, of the aptitude of one to precede, 
and of the other to follow ; so that in all similar circumstances, 
this will be the order of their occurrence in every subsequent 
period of time. 

The knowledge of this relation, or of the aptitudes of events 
and feelings to precede and follow one another, supplies, in 

* Vol. iii. p. 21. t Welsh's Memoirs, pp. 273-4. 



236 RELATIONS OF SUCCESSION. 

some measure, the place of history. When our minds recur to 
the ages which are past, we feel certain that, as it regards the 
changes which take place in the physical world, and the 
fluctuations of human thought and feeling, the occurrences of 
to-day may be regarded as a tolerably accurate specimen of 
what has been going on in the world since its creation. 

It supplies further, also, in a similar degree, the place ofpro- 
phecy. It communicates, to a certain extent, the gift of fore- 
knowledge. It lifts up the veil which hangs over futurity. It 
enables us to declare not only what has been, but what will 
be — to lead the future, as Dr. Brown says, as if it were pre- 
sent. If the contemplation of objects, as prior and posterior, 
gave us no conviction that in all future time, the order of their 
occurrence will, in all similar circumstances, be the same, it is 
manifest that we should be utterly unable to take any thought 
for the morrow — to provide against evil — to devise measures 
for seizing and appropriating the approaching good. Nay, it 
is further manifest, that we should be unable to take thought 
for the present moment. The fire that burnt us yesterday, 
would excite no dread of a similar fire to-day, if it were not re- 
garded as the cause of our pain. The food that nourished us 
yesterday, would prompt no exertion to obtain a supply of 
similar food to-day, if we were not impressed with a feeling of 
the relation of that food to our renovated strength and spirits. 
It does not appear that mere memory would be sufficient. We 
recollect that some time ago, perhaps at a certain hour, we en- 
tered a room, and began to sing, at the very instant when the 
ceiling fell with violence, inflicting a serious wound upon us ; 
yet we enter the same room to-day, after the ceiling has been 
renewed, at the same hour, and begin to raise the same notes, 
without the slightest fear of a recurrence of the disastrous event 
— because we do not suppose that our singing was its cause. 
And such would be the case generally without the notion of 
causation. It is our conception of the fitness of some events to 
precede, and of others to follow, that renders the experience of 
the past any guide in reference to the present and the future. 
" The knowledge," says Dr. Brown, " of these invariable rela- 
tions of succession, becomes to us inestimable — not as a me- 
dium only of intellectual luxury — but as a medium of all the 
arts of life, and even of the continuance of our very physical 
existence, which is preserved only by an unceasing adaptation 
of our actions to the fitnesses or tendencies of external things."* 

* Vol. iii. p. 5. 



EMOTIONS DIFFER FROM INTELLECTUAL STATES. 237 

Order II. 

OF OUR INTERNAL AFFECTIONS, COMPRISING OUR EMOTIONS. 

Much curious speculation has been excited, we are told, 
among philosophical inquirers, respecting the nature and ori- 
gin of this class of our feelings. Some deny that they consti- 
tute an order generically distinct from preceding ones. Some 
" trace them exclusively to the principle of association. Others 
consider them as original tendencies in the constitution of our 
nature ;" and others, again, regard them " as referable to the 
different views of the understanding." 

Our Emotions differ, however, so manifestly from our intel- 
lectual states of mind, by that peculiar vividness of feeling 
which every one understands, though it may be impossible to 
embody it in any verbal definition, that it is not a little singular 
that one should be confounded with the other, by any who have 
simply remembered, and compared, and have also loved, or 
hated, desired, or feared. It is difficult to account for the fact 
that they have been thus confounded, without supposing that 
the philosophers referred to fell into the error of Condillac — 
the error of supposing that a feeling which is the consequence 
of certain other previous feelings, is only another form of those 
feelings themselves. It is conceded that certain views of the 
understanding are necessary antecedents to certain emotions, 
— that a variety of circumstances may have conjoined their in- 
fluence to fix our affections on the objects which engage them. 
But surely the emotions or affections themselves are states of 
mind generically different from the perceptions, or conceptions, 
by which they are preceded and produced. They presuppose 
the existence of different susceptibilities of mind. »' We might 
have been constituted," says Dr. Brown, " with respect to 
our intellectual states of mind, so as to have had all the va- 
rieties of these, our remembrances, judgments, and creations 
of fancy, without our emotions." On this point, however, it is 
not my intention to enlarge. I feel, indeed, at a loss what to 
say which would be likely to convince those whom the evidence 
of consciousness does not teach, that the recollection of a cer- 
tain event, for instance, or the recognition of a particular rela- 
tion, is a state of mind which differs essentially from the emo- 
tion of joy or sorrow, love or hatred.^ 

The business of the mental philosopher is, we have said, to 
analyze and classify. This statement is not less true with re- 
21 



238 EMOTIONS', 

gard to our emotions, than to our intellectual states of mind. 
It appears, however, more desirable to classify the emotions r 
not in their elementary state, but in those complex conditions 
in which they generally exhibit themselves in the world, and 
have received certain definite characteristic names ; and, in 
the consideration of the separate affections, to state the ele- 
ments of which the complex whole is composed. 

In arranging all the vivid feelings to which reference is now 
made under the general head of Emotions, it is intended, of 
course, to intimate that they do not admit of generic distinc- 
tions. Some writers, indeed, conceive that they form three 
divisions, under the generic names of Passions, Emotions, and 
Affections. In this arrangement they are supported by the au- 
thority of Dr. Cogan, who tells us, that the almost universal 
disagreement among philosophers in their ideas concerning 
the precise nature of a passion, emotion, and affection, was 
one, among other inducements, to the publication of his work 
on the Passions. Under the influence of regret at this circum- 
stance, and of his opinion, that the three terms just mentioned 
designate so many generic varieties of those vivid feelings to 
which we are about to attend, he is, of course, very anxious to 
give a precise definition of them. He tells us, that he paid 
great attention to the workings of the human mind — that he 
has pursued the analytical method of examination, &c. ; but 
the manner in which he writes forces upon my mind the con- 
viction, not merely that there are no such generic varieties as 
those for which he contends, but that, like many others, he has 
spent more time in investigating the meaning of terms, than in 
actually observing the operations of mind. I shall lay before 
the reader the substance of Dr. Cogan's remarks, together 
with a few observations which are manifestly suggested by 
them. 

The three terms, Passions, Emotions, and Affections, are 
always employed, he tells us, to express the sensible effects 
which objects, or ideas concerning them, have upon the mind. 
And, after taking a rapid glance at the manner in which the 
first of the terms is used, he proceeds to say, that, in most of 
these applications, no attention has been paid to the primitive 
signification of the word Passion, " although this appears," he 
adds, " to be the safest method to recall us from those aberra- 
tions to which we are perpetually exposed." Under the guid- 
ance of this principle, he goes on to state, that the primary idea 
attached to the word is that of passivity, or being impulsively act- 
ed upon — that the term Passion, therefore, may with strict pro- 






STATEMENTS OF DR. COGAN. '239 

priety be used, .and used exclusively, to represent the first 
feeling, the percussion, as it were, of which the mind is consci- 
ous from some impulsive cause ; by which it is wholly acted 
upon, without any efforts of its own, either to solicit, or to es- 
cape the impression. 

With reference to Emotion, the Doctor says, " The state of 
universal passiveness described above, in consequence of this 
sudden percussion of mind, is of short duration. The strong 
impression, or vivid sensation, immediately produces a re-ac- 
tion correspondent to its nature, either to appropriate and enjoy, 
or to avoid and repel the exciting cause. This re-action," he 
■adds, {query of the mind ?) " is very properly distinguished by 
the term Emotion. Emotions, however," he immediately af- 
terwards states, " are principally and primitively applicable to 
the sensible changes, and visible effects, which particular pas- 
sions produce upon the frame in consequence of this re-action, 
or particular agitation of mind." 

Again, he tells us, that " the term Emotion is sometimes ex- 
pressive of lively sensations which do not produce visible ef- 
fects, in any degree proportionate to their feelings. In emo- 
tions the mind is not so completely or necessarily passive ; it 
possesses some power over the external signs, &c." 

Finally, he states, that the term is frequently employed to 
mark the first impression which particular objects make upon 
susceptible minds, whether they remain concealed or not. 
** Thus in the fine arts," he adds, " the eharms of musical com- 
positions which are novel to us ; — the first view of a gallery of 
paintings possessing distinguished merit ; — the surprise of a 
beautiful or elevated sentiment, or poetic description, will gen- 
erally make a more vivid impression upon us, than that which 
is felt in a continued or renewed contemplation of the same 
subjects." 

The third term, Affection, has, he tells us, a different signi- 
fication from either of the preceding ones. " It always repre- 
sents a less violent, and generally a more durable influence 
Which things have upon the mind. It is applicable to the man- 
ner in which we are affected by them for a continuance. It 
supposes a more deliberate predilection and aversion, in con- 
sequence of the continued influence of some prevailing qual- 
ity. This distinguishes it from the transient influence of pas- 
sion. Nor is it intimately connected with any external signs; 
which distinguishes it from emotions, &c. &c."* 

* Vide Treatise on the Passions, 3d Edition, p. 2-10. 



240 REMARKS UPON 

On these statements the following observations are submit- 
ted to the reader : First, that in his explanation of the term 
Passion, Dr. C. appears to proceed on a radical mistake — the 
mistake of supposing that the nature of any state or operation 
of the mind, may be ascertained by a reference to the primi- 
tive signification of the term which is used to denote it. He 
has given us, it is probable, a correct account of the original 
meaning of the term passion ; yet he merely exhibits thereby 
the opinion of those who first used the term to designate the 
states of mind in question. Had they been infallible men, we 
should be bound of course to believe that what we call the pas- 
sions, are states of mind in which it is altogether passive. But 
since they were not infallible, what more than the ordinary re- 
spect which we pay to the judgment of intelligent men, do we 
owe to their judgment, of which the word in question is a 
manifestation ? Language is only the expression of human 
opinion. To refer, therefore, to the original, or even general 
acceptation of mere terms, with a view to ascertain the nature 
of those mental states or operations which they are used to de- 
note, is worse than trifling. It is to allow the opinions and au- 
thority of men to regulate our sentiments, while we profess to 
derive them, as Dr. Cogan does, from an actual examination 
of the workings of the mind. 

Suppose we were to apply the principles of this writer to 
the mental state, denoted by the term Idea. It is derived from 
the Greek «/eT«a, to see. An idea must, therefore, be something 
which is capable of being seen ; i. e. an idea of a house must 
be an image of a house. Thus we are plunged at once into the 
bog of the Stagyrite. I am not certain whether the Doctor him- 
self would wish to make his escape from the spot to which his 
philosophy must infallibly conduct him. 

Secondly, That it is impossible to perceive clearly the line 
of distinction which is drawn by Dr. Cogan, between passions, 
emotions, and affections — or, as it would perhaps be more cor- 
rect to say, that he has himself failed to exhibit any line of dis- 
tinction. In so far as the words denote states of mind, he does 
not seem to think that there is any specific difference between 
them. Of passions and emotions, he says, the difference is 
simply in degree, not in kind ; and of the affections, he adds, 
some of them indicate themselves so strongly, that they ap- 
proach to emotions. The passions, according to this writer, 
seem to denote the more violent excitements of mind — the 
emotions, those which are in a degree less powerful — and the 
affections, such as are comparatively moderate and gentle. 



DR. COGAX's STATEMENTS. 241 

But where is the mental thermometer by which they are to be 
measured ? Who shall tell us when passion sinks to emotion, 
and when emotion rises to passion ? According to the doctrine 
of Cogan, we need a thermometer for every individual mind ; 
for what is passion in one man, would scarcely rise to emotion 
in another ; yet thermometer we have none. 

It is on this account that a classification, founded on a mere 
difference of degree, is inadmissible ; a division should be built 
on a specific difference. How immensely do our sensations 
differ from each other in point of intensity ! Yet what philoso- 
pher has ever thought of dividing them into the most intense — 
the moderately intense— the least intense ? And yet, with re- 
spect to sensations, there would be a more manifest reason for 
such a division ; inasmuch as all our sensations may become 
actually painful by their intensity ; and might accordingly seem, 
on that account, to admit of being arranged in the three divi- 
sions of pleasant — painful — and indifferent. For reasons for- 
merly assigned, however, such a mode of classification is ne- 
ver adopted. How infinite are the gradations in that state of 
mind to which the name of Love is assigned ! Why should we 
not, then, on the principles of Dr. Cogan's classification, sub- 
divide it into three classes, and talk of the passion of love — the 
emotion of love — and the affection of love, as though the feel- 
ing in each class were specifically different ? 

There is, in fact, a far broader and more visible line of dis- 
tinction between the various kinds of emotions specified by 
Cogan, than between the three classes of mental emotions, af- 
fections, and passions. Passions invariably produce visible 
effects ; but this is also the case with some emotions. Affec- 
tions do not indicate themselves by visible effects ; and there 
are some emotions which remain concealed in the bosom. 
Where then is the broad line of distinction between these three 
classes ? There is obviously none. But, on the other hand, 
while some emotions are mere bodily affections, others have, 
according to his statement, their seat in the mind — a difference 
which causes a broad line of distinction between them, and 
-constitutes a basis for classification. 

Thirdly, that some of the statements, to which reference has 
been made, are contradictory. The book is written for the pro- 
fessed purpose of explaining certain mental states, not any mere 
bodily affections, how important soever they may be. In har- 
mony with this professed object, the author states that the three 
terms Passions, Emotions, and Affections, are always employ- 
ed to express the sensible effects which objects, or ideas con- 

21* 



242 REMARKS UPON 

cerning them, have upon the mind.* And yet, when he comes 
to define Emotion, he tells us, in effect, that it denotes not an 
effect upon the mind at all, but upon the animal frame ! 

In an introductory paragraph he gives his opinion that emo- 
tion is the re-action of the mind, after a state of passion ; and, 
in the very next, he declares, in effect, that it is not the re-ac- 
tion of the mind, but the consequence of this re-action — or its 
visible effects upon the frame ! At one moment, he assures us 
that the word Passion may be used exclusively to denote the 
first feeling of which the mind is conscious from some impul- 
sive cause ; while, in the very next, he states, that though pas- 
sion denotes exclusively the first feeling, emotion is frequently 
employed to mark the first impression which particular objects 
make upon susceptible minds. From a work containing state- 
ments such as these, it is vain to expect precision. And yet 
the writer complains bitterly of the want of precision in philo- 
sophical investigations, and adds, " it is hoped the above ex- 
planations of the terms Passions, Emotions, and Affections, 
will obtain the approbation of philosophical readers, since they 
ivere suggested to the author by an attention to the workings of 
the human mind." I find it impossible to doubt that Dr. Cogan 
deceived himself here. To talk of ascertaining that emotion is 
an effect produced upon the body, by attention to the workings 
of the mind, cannot be regarded as much less absurd,- than to 
look to consciousness to explain the nature of a broken leg. 
If emotion were what this writer represents it, it would not be a 
mental affection. The intellectual philosopher would have no 
more concern with it than with the fever, or paralysis, which 
are sometimes the results of strong mental excitement. To 
gain any knowledge of it, we should be constrained to resort 
to perception. There are, doubtless, in Dr. Cogan's book, 
many good general descriptions of the passions in those com- 
plex forms in which they ordinarily present themselves to our 
view ; but this introductory chapter is fatal to all hope of meet- 
ing with enlightened philosophical views, with just and delicate 
analysis, or even with tolerable precision. Were there no other 
complaint to make, the grossly material vehicle in which he 
has chosen to communicate his thoughts — adapted as it is ei- 
ther to convey no notions, or false ones — would be sufficient 
to justify severity of censure. To define passion as the percus- 
sion of the mind, is to give us no information, or to materialize 
the mind. To talk of the impetus of the passion upon the cor- 

*P.2. 



dr. cogan's statements. 243 

poreal system, is to fall into the same error. If the meaning be, 
that the passion awakens desire or fear, the one leading us to 
avoid, and the other to pursue, the object which kindled the 
passion, why is this not said ? Why does the Doctor write, 
while professing to admit the separate existence of mind, as if 
matter and mind had common properties, and were governed 
by common laws ? 

While I thus oppose the statements of Dr. Cogan, and deny 
that there is any specific difference between what he denomi- 
nates Passions, Emotions and Affections, I would not be un- 
derstood as wishing to discard the terms themselves. It is 
convenient to have words which mark different degrees of in- 
tensity and permanence in the same radical feeling, as, in 
grammar, it is desirable to invest the adjective with different 
degrees of comparison. The word Passion may be very pro- 
perly retained to denote the superlative degree, so to speak, of 
any of those feelings which sometimes blaze with fierceness 
for a moment, and then expire ; or, as Dr. Brown says, " to 
designate our desires when they become very vivid and perma- 
nent ;" thus we talk of the passion of the miser, the passion 
of ambition, which is only an exalted and lasting desire of 
worldly power and splendor. The word Affection may be 
advantageously employed to denote emotions when they exist 
in a moderate and gentle state, and have the character of per- 
petuity ; as the parental affection, conjugal affection, &c. Still 
all our states of mind, of this kind, may be arranged under the 
general head of Emotions. They admit of classification, like 
sensations ; but they display no generic varieties. I proceed 
to state the principle of classification ; and then to consider 
the emotions separately. 

Very different modes of classification have been proposed 
and adopted by writers on this subject. " Some have placed 
them," says Cogan, " in contrast to each other, as hope and 
fear, joy and sorrow, &c. Some have considered them as they 
are personal, relative, social : some according to their influ- 
ence at different periods of life : others according as they re- 
late to past, present, or future time ; as sorrow principally re- 
fers to things past ; joy and anger to present scenes ; hope 
and fear respect futurity. The academicians advanced, that 
the principal passions are fear, hope, joy and grief." "Dr. 
Hartley has arranged the passions under five grateful, and five 
ungrateful ones. The grateful ones, are love, desire, hope, joy, 
and pleasing recollection ; the ungrateful are hatred, aversion, 
fear, grief, displeasing recollection." The affections, termed 



244 MODES OF CLASSIFYING THE EMOTIONS. 

by him Intellectual Pleasures and Pains, are arranged under 
six general classes, — imagination, ambition, self-interest, sym- 
pathy, theopathy, and the moral sense. A concise account of 
the system of Hartley is given by Belsham in his Elements 
of Moral Science. Dr. Watts divides the passions into two 
leading classes — the primitive and derivative. The primitive 
he subdivides into two ranks. First, admiration, love, and 
hatred. Second, the divers kinds of love and hatred ; as, es- 
teem, contempt, benevolence, malevolence, complacency, dis- 
placency. The derivatives are desire, aversion, hope, fear, 
gratitude, anger, &c. 

Mr. Grove's system resembles that of Watts. Drs. Dod- 
dridge and Beattie appear also to have approved of it. 

Dr. Cogan's classification is founded on the assumption that, 
in the nature of man, there is the principle of self-love, and 
the social principle. Some of our passions and affections owe 
their origin, he supposes, to the former — others to the latter 
principle ; and thus are formed the two classes, into which he 
divides all our feelings of the kind we are now considering. 
Under each of these classes he admits two orders. 

Order the first, includes those passions which are excited by 
the idea of good. Order the second, comprehends those which 
are awakened by the idea of evil. 

The first order admits of subdivision in the following man- 
ner. The good may be in our possession ; when it will occa- 
sion various degrees of enjoyment, from simple gratification 
to ecstacy. Or, it may not be in our possession ; when, ac- 
cording to different circumstances, it will inspire desire or 
hope. 

The second order may be thus subdivided. The evil to 
which it relates may be the loss of good possessed or desired 
Or, it may be the apprehension of loss, or injury, or disap- 
pointment. The loss or disappointment will occasion sorrow 
the apprehension, fear. The cause of this sorrow and fear ma 
be some agent, whose designed conduct, or whose inadver 
tency, may threaten and produce injuries, and thus excite an- 
ger in various degrees. 

The second class, comprehending the passions and affec- 
tions derived from the social principle, admits of two orders. 

Order the first, includes those which are excited by benevo- 
lence, in which good is the predominant idea. From benevo- 
lence flow good desires, and dispositions, and good opinions. 
Out of good desires spring the social affections, and the sym- 



j. 

i 



dr. brown's classification. 245 

pathetic affections. From good opinions proceed gratitude, 
admiration, esteem, respect, veneration, fondness, &c. 

Order the second, including those passions and affections in 
which evil is the predominant idea, may be subdivided into 
malevolent desires and dispositions — as malignancy, envy, rage, 
&c. &c. &c. ; and displacency — as horror, contempt, indig- 
nation, &c. 

Dr. Brown's arrangement is given us in the following terms : 
" The most obvious principle of general arrangement seems 
to me their relation to time — as immediate, or involving no 
notion of time whatever ; — as retrospective, in relation to the 
past ; — or as prospective, in relation to the future. Admiration, 
remorse, hope, may serve as particular instances to illustrate 
my meaning in this distinction. We admire what is before us, 
— we feel remorse for some past crime, — we hope for some 
future good."* 

There are other advantages of this arrangement besides the 
one which Dr. Brown has himself mentioned. It is simple, and 
it is comprehensive. There are none of our emotions, in those 
complex states in which they usually present themselves, and 
to which particular names have been attached, which do not 
easily arrange themselves in one or other of these classes ; 
though, it must be acknowledged, that all the elementary parts, 
when the complex feeling is analyzed, are not invariably found 
to belong to the same class with the complex feeling itself. 

Dr. Cogan's arrangement does not include all our emotions ; 
it rejects, as we shall afterwards see, the feelings of surprise, 
wonder, and astonishment ; and it does not classify love and 
hatred, desire and aversion, with our passions, but rather re- 
presents them as the causes of our passions. Indeed the 
statements of this writer, on this point, constitute the most ob- 
jectionable part of his book. They proceed, I humbly con- 
ceive, on a radically mistaken conception of the nature of the 
human mind. We cannot think justly with regard to mind, 
without supposing that each of the various emotions which it 
experiences, presupposes the existence of a power, or suscep- 
tibility, in the mind of becoming the subject of that emotion. 
No joy, no grief, no anger, &c. &c. could be felt, had not the 
Creator of the mind imparted to it a distinct susceptibility (in 
the sense formerly explained) of experiencing joy, grief, anger, 
&c. Dr. C. has entirely forgotten this. He exhibits all our emo- 
tions, or passions as he calls them, as necessarily springing 

* Vol. iii. pp. 36-7. 



246 MISTAKES OP COGAN. 

out of one single principle, to which he gives the name of love 
to well-being. This he regards as the first and leading prin- 
ciple of our nature, and all others as the necessary conse- 
quences of this principle, in beings similarly formed and cir- 
cumstanced with ourselves. Implant in the mind of man this 
single principle, and without any distinct susceptibility of ex- 
periencing joy, grief, anger, &c. these emotions will, in the 
circumstances supposed by him, he imagines, necessarily arise. 
On this statement I observe, 

First, That of the principle itself no intelligible account has 
been given. What is " well-being V Can any other concep- 
tion be formed of it, than as a state in which the mind is in the 
enjoyment of feelings which have been rendered, by its very 
constitution, grateful to it ? What is love to well-being, but 
love to those grateful feelings ? Is it not, then, manifest that 
a state of well-being supposes the mind to have been endowed 
with various susceptibilities of grateful feeling, and that the in- 
dividual, who is the subject of this state, is possessed of objects 
adapted to develop these susceptibilities ? What is that well-be- 
ing which is previous to contentment, complacency, delight, and 
other happy emotions, and the love of which actually produces 
these emotions 1 Surely well-being is contentment, complacen- 
cy, delight, &c. I do not, I apprehend, express my self in terms of 
undeserved severity, when I say, that a system of philosophy, 
which commences by speaking of a state of well-being— ^or a 
grateful state of existence — as something which exists previ- 
ously to all grateful feelings, and then proceeds to trace all 
these feelings to the natural and necessary influence of love to 
this state of well-being, is radically absurd. 

Secondly, I observe that if a state of well-being could be 
conceived of as existing previously to the possession of grate- 
ful feelings, love to this state would not originate the emotions 
of complacency, delight, &c. which are supposed, by this sys- 
tem, to result from it. Contentment, complacency, &c. are 
states of mind produced by the possession of an object previ- 
ously desired ; th« states of mind are in themselves delightful; 
but they exist only in consequence of a distinct susceptibility 
of experiencing them — or, in other words, because God has so 
formed the human mind, as that when the object to which we 
have referred is possessed, the feeling of contentment, or com- 
placency, &c. immediately arises. 

Had Dr. Cogan not embarrassed himself by attempting to 
trace all our emotions to this strange principle of love to well- 
be ing — had he recollected that all our emotions arise in con- 



CHEERFULNESS. 247 

sequence of the existence of corresponding susceptibilities — 
and had he classified love, hatred, desire, aversion, &c. among 
our emotions, instead of representing them as the causes of 
those emotions, he might, perhaps, have presented us with an 
arrangement more worthy of adoption than that which is founds 
ed on their mere relation to time. This latter classification is, 
however, so simple, that, without hesitation, we follow Dr, 
Brown in adopting it. 

EMOTIONS. 

Class I. — Comprehending those ivhich are immediate, or in- 
volve no notion of time. 

In [this class may be included — cheerfulness in all its dif- 
ferent gradations, melancholy, surprise, wonder, astonishment, 
languor, beauty, deformity, grandeur, sublimity, ludicrous- 
ness, moral approbation and disapprobation, love and hate, 
sympathy, pride and humility. 

The possession of some of the susceptibilities implied in 
the foregoing terms, renders us capable subjects of moral go- 
vernment ; and it is in the manner in which several of these 
emotions arise, and continue to be developed, that much of 
virtue and vice consists. But they are now to be considered 
rather " physiologically than ethically." Our business at pre- 
sent is chiefly to examine the nature of the mental affections 
enumerated above, that we may gain a more accurate know- 
ledge of mind, as capable of experiencing them ; though it 
may be proper, as we proceed, to point out, with reference to 
some of them at least, their moral character. 

CHEERFULNESS. 

With the nature of this emotion all are acquainted. Dr. 
Brown has described it as " a sort of perpetual gladness." It 
only approaches to perpetuity, however, in the young, and in 
some of the choicer spirits of our race, in whom it constitutes 
a kind of habit of mind. Individuals, whose mental tempera- 
ture is rather grave and gay, and aged persons, generally 
speaking, enjoy not the constant sunshine of this delightful 
state of mind. It manifests, however, the benevolence of our 
Maker, that he has rendered the human mind susceptible of 
the emotion ; and the habitual want of it, when such is the 
case, is to be ascribed to human perversity, and to the infeli- 



248 MELANCHOLY. 

city of circumstances which that perversity has introduced. 
There are words of kindred import, such as contentment, sa- 
tisfaction, complacency, gladness, joy, delight, &c. which 
some authors consider as the symbols of so many radically 
distinct emotions, excited by the idea of good in possession. 
The fact, however, seems to be, that the emotion denoted by 
all the words is the same, — that the feelings indicated by them, 
are modifications of the simple emotion of joy. The terms, 
however, may be properly enough retained to exhibit different 
degrees of the same mental affection — or to mark a distinc- 
tion between the emotion, in combination with the conception 
of its cause, forming a complex state of mind, as in the case 
of complacency ; and without any such combination, as in the 
case of cheerfulness. Contentment, satisfaction, gladness, 
joy, &c. are complex states of mind. When analyzed, the 
elements presented are — the simple emotion of joy — and the 
conception of the cause of that emotion. They differ from 
each other only in the circumstance, that the elementary emo- 
tion is more powerful in some than in others ; rising, by regu- 
lar gradations, from contentment to joy, and delight. Cheer- 
fulness is the simple emotion itself — for we are frequently 
" cheerful without knowing why V — though the word denotes 
the emotion in its gentler state. 

MELANCHOLY. 

Of this term, together with several kindred ones, the follow- 
ing account has been given. "The lowest degree of painful 
feeling may be termed uneasiness. The word discontent is 
used when we are able, with some distinctness, to specify the 
cause of the evil suffered. Dissatisfaction is a higher feeling, 
of a painful nature. It supposes previous expectation, and pre- 
sent disappointment. Vexation arises from a variety of trifling 
and momentary troubles, which cross our wishes, and contri- 
bute to our disappointment. It appears to be the exact coun- 
terpart of gladness, and is greatly heightened and modified by 
surprise, and unexpectedness. It discovers itself by lively ex- 
pressions of displeasure, and sometimes by violent affections 
of the animal part of our nature. Sorrow is the direct opposite 
of joy ; and denotes a more permanent state]of mind than what 
exists under the influence of the above-mentioned feelings. 
Grief, and sorrow, are nearly synonimous terms ; only grief is 
more commonly applied to the first and more violent excite- 
ments of sorrow ; and sorrow to the more settled and lasting 



MELANCHOLY. 249 

affection of grief. Hence sorrow remains, when grief has sub- 
sided. Thus the death of a dear relative, or friend, may pro- 
duce a paroxysm of grief, so violent, that even the term trans- 
port is sometimes applied to express its power ; thus convey- 
ing the idea, that the mind is carried beyond itself by its force. 
In this instance, it is the exact counterpart of lively delight. 
The conception of the loss, however, thus producing violent 
grief, may become, by degrees, so chastened and modified, as to 
settle into sorrow. The external indications of this passion 
are sometimes extremely violent, and even, when subsided, 
they leave traces and marks of their influence on the animal 
frame, and on the habits of the mind. Objects that once ex- 
cited pleasure, become invested with gloom ; one class of as- 
sociations predominates over all the rest. In numerous cases, 
the imagination receives an amazing stimulus from the excite- 
ment of sorrow ; and the power of memory becomes unusually 
vivid and strong. Hence the loss is aggravated ; the mind in- 
dulges its reveries of wo ; and it sometimes happens that the 
grief is so long nourished — and one train of painful associa- 
tions becomes so marked and predominant, as to suspend or 
derange the right use of the rational powers. There are occa- 
sionally produced, in some instances, the raging of madness, 
and, in others, the morbid sadness of melancholy. " The passion 
of sorrow," adds this writer, " is peculiarly distinguished as 
being of a tacit uncommunicative nature. Unlike joy, it wishes 
not to excite kindred feelings in others ; it is marked by si- 
lence ; and, retiring into the scenes of privacy, it weeps alone. 
* Peter went out to weep.' It is not till the passion of sor- 
row has subsided into an affection, that it becomes capable of 
what is called the luxury of grief. In this state, the commu- 
nication of the feeling may be a source of gratification." 

The preceding statements represent the words explained, as 
denoting the same radical emotion in different degrees, or as 
existing in combination with some other feeling. The radical 
emotion is grief; which constitutes, as Dr. Brown thinks, one 
of the elementary emotions. It is capable, like the qualities 
of material objects, of various degrees of" intension :" at one 
time it may be found in its elementary state ; at others, in com- 
bination with some conception or notion, forming with it a 
complex state of mind — but the radical emotion is the same in 
all. And, since in classifying our emotions, we do not, on va- 
rious accounts, regard them in their elementary principles, but 
in those complex conditions in which they generally present 
themselves to our view, it follows that the same emotion, when 

22 



250 MELANCHOLY. 

in combination with a certain conception, and when it presents 
itself in its elementary state, may admit of being arranged dif- 
ferently. This is the case with Regret, and Melancholy, or 
sadness. In mere sadness there may be no notion of the cause 
of the emotion — we are melancholy we know not why ; but in 
regret, the same emotion is combined with a conception of its 
cause — we must regret something. And, as the cause of re- 
gret must be a past event, regret is classed by Dr. Brown 
among our retrospective emotions. Whether this does not go 
far to prove that a more philosophic arrangement of our emo- 
tions than that which he adopts, and which is.here followed on 
account of its simplicity, might have been suggested,! will not 
undertake to say. 

Dr. Brown describes melancholy as " that state of mind 
which intervenes between the absolute affliction of some great 
calamity, and that peace which afterwards succeeds to it." 
This description supposes that time has an influence in soften- 
ing violent grief into melancholy ; an influence which has been 
remarked upon as frequently as it has been observed ; though 
I am not aware that any writer, besides Dr. Brown, has pre- 
sented us with any statement which can claim the character of 
a philosophical explanation of the phenomenon. The amount 
of his statements is as follows : The grief is, at first, pure,, 
unmixed grief. By the laws of suggestion, however, in con- 
sequence of which any simple feeling may be rendered com- 
plex, this grief becomes combined with other feelings produced 
by passing events, so that it partakes gradually less and less 
of the nature of that pure affliction which constituted the origi- 
nal sorrow ; till at length it is so much softened and diversified 
by repeated combinations, as scarcely to retain the same char- 
acter, and to be rather sadness, or a sort of gentle tenderness, 
than affliction. 

Further, with the original feeling, all surrounding objects are 
at first strongly associated, so that the sight of any one of 
them recalls that feeling, when the mind is momentarily divert- 
ed by the ordinary laws of suggestion ; that is, as we say, in 
popular phraseology, renews the grief. By degrees, however, 
these surrounding objects become associated with other feel- 
ings, which they recall more frequently than the original feel- 
ing, in consequence of one of the secondary laws of sugges- 
tion. Thus the melancholy is less frequently excited, because 
fewer objects now recall it, and it is, at the same time, gen- 
tler when it is renewed.* 

* Vol. iii. p. 47-51. 



DH. cogan's definitions. 251 



SURPRISE, WONDER, AND ASTONISHMENT. 

The states of mind denoted by these words are denominated 
by Dr. Cogan, " Introductory Emotions." It did not appear to 
him possible to trace them to the influence of what he calls the 
leading principle of our nature, viz. love to well-being. They 
do not, accordingly, appear in his enumeration of the passions, 
&c. ; but he has been constrained to station them in a position 
which is almost as singular as the very remarkable language 
he employs concerning them. " Being," says he, " a class of 
emotions in which distinct ideas of good or evil are not present 
to the mind, they may enlist themselves under either division ;" 
i. e. under the division of passions and affections, which are ex- 
cited by the idea of good — or of those which are awakened by 
the idea of evil. But if, when these emotions, as he calls them, 
arise, no ideas of good or evil are present to the mind, by which 
they may be excited ; and, a fortiori, if emotions are not men- 
tal affections — if they are effects produced by powerful excite- 
ments of mind upon the body, (the sense in which he avows his 
intention of using the term) — it is perfectly manifest that they 
ought not to be placed in either division. He proceeds, in his de- 
scription of them, in the following indefinite manner : " They " 
{i. e. the Introductory Emotions, as he calls them) " are vivid 
impressions, 7 ' (query, upon what ?) "productive of effects," 
(on what?) " which, strictly speaking, neither belong to the pas- 
sions nor affections ; and yet their presence " (where 1) " fre- 
quently constitutes the difference between an affection and a 
passion."* The reader must make what he can of this pas- 
sage ; to me it is unintelligible. Nor does his subsequent de- 
finition of Surprise throw any more light upon the subject. 
" Whatever presents itself," he tells us, " in a sudden and un- 
expected manner, makes a proportionably greater impression 
upon us ; the first percussion wilt be more violent ; and this 
circumstance," he adds, " will give peculiar energy to the ex- 
citing cause, whatever its peculiar complexion may be. A 
strong impulse is given, by the very mode of its appearance, 
previous to our being able to acquire a distinct knowledge of 
its nature. This impulse is the emotion," he adds, " we term 
Surprise."^ * nave marked, by italic characters, the words 
which throw ambiguity over the whole statement. An impulse 
is given, he states, and this impulse is surprise. To ivhat does 
he mean, I ask, is the impulse given ? The connexion would 

* P. 49, t P- 51. 



252 CLASS I. SURPRISE, &c. 

seem to intimate that his intention is to affirm that it is impart- 
ed to the exciting cause of the affection. But, if such be his 
meaning, it necessarily follows that surprise, on his system, is 
neither an affection of the mind nor of the body, but increased 
power of impression in an external object. If he mean that the 
impulse is given to the mind, then it follows that emotion is 
not, as he affirms, the effect of strong internal feeling upon the 
corporeal frame. I cannot avoid suspecting that there was no- 
thing definite in the Doctor's own conceptions on the subject. 
He seems to have had an obscure idea that the qualities of no- 
velty and unexpectedness must produce some distinct mental 
feeling ; and yet, not knowing what to think of this feeling, nor 
how to classify it, he perhaps unconsciously abandons this 
idea in the course of his statements, and writes, not as though 
he considered surprise a distinct mental feeling, but the no- 
velty and unexpectedness of an event, giving to the feeling 
which the event is, in itself, adapted to produce, a greater de- 
gree of vividness. He frequently remarks upon the influence 
of these introductory emotions, as he calls them, in converting 
affections into passions. And he states it as highly probable, 
that " the essential and characteristic difference between a 
Passion and an Affection, depends upon the superaddition of 
surprise to the natural effect produced by the real or supposed 
quality of an object; that this emotion, conjoined with the spe- 
cific nature of its exciting cause, is virtually the efficient cause 
of a passion ; the percussion of surprise rendering the affection 

visible by characteristic eigne, correspondent with ita specific 

nature."* I admit, that it is impossible to gather any thing with 
certainty from this statement ; but it would appear to be the 
idea of the writer, that an object, in itself adapted to awaken a 
certain affection, produces, when it appears suddenly and un- 
expectedly, a more than ordinarily vigorous excitement of that 
affection. The mental feeling, in this case, is not different in 
kind from the ordinary instances of it, but in degree only ; so 
that surprise is not a distinct mental feeling, but merely the no- 
velty and unexpectedness of an event, imparting increased vi- 
vidness to other feelings. 

The reader is referred to what he says with reference to 
wonder and astonishment, in confirmation of this opinion ; 
neither my limits nor my inclinations will permit me to follow 
statements, which appear to me at least so unusually indefinite, 
in a professedly philosophical work, any further. 

* P. 190. 






SURPRISE, WONDER, AND ASTONISHMENT. 253 

The error that no distinct emotion, or mental feeling, is de- 
noted by any of the terms to which we now refer, was commit- 
ted also by Dr. Adam Smith. " Surprise," says this writer, 
"is not to be regarded as an original emotion, of a species dis- 
tinct from all others. The violent and sudden change pro- 
duced upon the mind, when an emotion of any kind is brought 
upon it, constitutes the whole nature of surprise ;"* t. c. a sud- 
den change from grief to joy, or from joy to grief, is surprise. 
We [ would ask here, what is this change ? It is neither the 
grief nor the joy, but the cessation of one, and the commence- 
ment of the other. How then can it have happened, that the 
mere termination of grief, and the beginning of sorrow, could 
be regarded by Dr. Smith as an emotion, (for his language im- 
plies that surprise is an emotion, though not an original one,) is 
certainly adapted to produce in us that change which is thus 
singularly designated. " If there be any emotion," says Dr. 
Brown, " which is truly original, it really seems to me very difl> 
cult to discover one which could have a better claim to this dis- 
tinction than surprise. It certainly is not involved in either of 
the successive perceptions, or conceptions, or feelings of any 
kind, the unusual successions of which appear to us surprising ; 
and if it be not, even in the slightest degree, involved in either 
of them separately, it cannot be involved in the two, which 
contain nothing more, as successive, than they contained se- 
parately.^ When the two are regarded by the mind as objects, 
indeed, they may give rise to feelings which are not involved 
in themselves, and the emotion of surprise may be, or rather 
truly is, one of these secondary feelings; but the surprise is 
then an original emotion, distinct from the primary states of 
mind which gave birth to it, indeed, but do not constitute it. 
Sudden joy and sudden sorrow, even in their most violent ex- 
tremes, might succeed each other reciprocally, in endless suc- 
cession, without exciting surprise, if the mind had been unsus- 
ceptible of any other feelings than joy and sorrow. Surprise 
is evidently not joy,— it is as evidently not sorrow,— nor is it a 
combination of joy and sorrow ;— it is surely, therefore, some- 
thing different from both ; and we can say with confidence, that 
before the mind can be astonished at the succession of the two 
feelings, it must have been rendered susceptible at least of a 
third feeling."f 

If the statements of Dr. Smith are correct, why are not ani- 

* Vide Essays on Philosophical Subjects, p. 6. 
t Vol. iii. pp. 63-4. 

22* 



254 CLASS I. SURPRISE, &c 

mals in general susceptible of surprise, and wonder, and as- 
tonishment, as well as the human race, for they experience 
sudden transitions from joy to sorrow, and from sorrow to joy ? 

There is, then, we conceive, an original susceptibility of 
mind, of which brutes are destitute, rendering us capable of a 
specific emotion at the occurrence of any thing unexpected, 
new, vast, &c. To attempt to describe the feeling is absurd. 
All the simple feelings of our nature must be experienced in 
order to be known ; nothing more can be done by us than to 
point out the circumstances in which they ordinarily arise. 
There is one question, however, to which a little attention 
must be devoted ; viz. is the emotion, designated by the vari- 
ous words, surprise, wonder, and astonishment, strictly speak- 
ing, one emotion, or as different as the words by which it is 
denoted ? The latter appears to be the more common opinion. 
It is supported by the weight of Dr. Smith's authority, al- 
though his statements, on this point, appear to be necessarily 
at variance with his doctrine, that surprise is not an original 
emotion. What is new and singular, he conceives to excite 
that feeling, or sentiment, as he calls it, which, in strict pro- 
priety, is termed Wonder ; what is unexpected, that different 
feeling which is commonly called Surprise. M We wonder," 
says he, " at all extreme and uncommon objects— at all the 
rarer phenomena of nature — at meteors, comets, and eclipses 
— at singular plants and animals ; and at every thing, in short, 
with which we have been before either little, or not at all ac- 
quainted ; and we still wonder, though forewarned of whatjwe 
are to see. We are surprised," he continues, " at those things 
which we have seen often, but which we least of all expected 
to meet with in the place where we find them ; we are sur- 
prised at the sudden appearance of a friend, whom we have 
seen a thousand times, but whom we did not imagine that we 
were to see then."* 

Some of my readers will be ready to imagine, it is possible 
that the preceding distinction is perfectly accurate, and that 
the point is established beyond controversy, that surprise, and 
wonder, are radically different emotions. And yet what does 
Dr. S. really prove more than that the same emotion may 
appear under different modifications; and that the law of cus- 
tom, which regulates the use of words, directs us to employ 
the term Surprise, when exhibiting one of its modifications, 
and Wonder, when pointing out another ? A certain quadru- 

* Philosophical Essays, p. 2. 



SURPRISE, WONDER, AND ASTONISHMENT. 255 

ped is called a calf in one stage of its existence, and a cow in 
another ; we cannot, accordingly, use the terms convcrtibly ; 
so that, reasoning on Dr. Smith's principles, we ought to be- 
lieve that the calf, and the cow, are totally different animals. 
The circumstance which misled Dr. Smith is one, the influ- 
ence of which has been more than once adverted to, — he has 
attended more to the acceptation of terms, than to what takes 
place in the mind when we are said to feel surprise, or won- 
der, or astonishment. 

The statements of Dr. Brown, on this subject, are especi- 
ally worthy of attention. " When new and striking objects 
occur, or when familiar objects present themselves in unex- 
pected situations, a certain emotion arises, to which we give 
the name of surprise, or astonishment, or wonder, but which, 
as an emotion, is the same, though different names may be 
given with distinctive propriety to this one emotion — when 
combined, or not combined, with a process of rapid intellec- 
tual inquiry, or with other feelings of the same class. When 
the emotion arises simply, it may be termed, and is more com- 
monly termed Surprise; — when the surprise, thus excited by 
the unexpected occurrence, leads us to dwell upon the object 
which excited it, and to consider in our minds what the circum- 
stances may have been which have led to the appearance of 
the object, the surprise is more properly termed Wonder, — 
which, as we may dwell upon the object long, and consider the 
possibilities of many circumstances that may have led to the 
unexpected introduction of it, is, of course, more lasting than 
the instant surprise which was only its first stage."* 

The description given by this able writer of the circumstances 
in which the emotion of surprise, or wonder, arises, leads me 
to remark upon another question suggested by him ; viz. 
whether the same events which excite wonder in us, produce 
the same emotions in the mind of an infant ; for since every 
thing is new to an infant, those occurrences which are very re- 
markable to us, are not more remarkable to an infant than 
common and everyday events. Does the feeling of surprise 
attend then, in the case of infants, the perception of every ob- 
ject and effect] With Dr. Brown, I think not. The feeling 
of surprise is manifestly inconsistent with a state of utter ig- 
norance. It supposes, in the circumstances in which it arises, 
the knowledge of other circumstances, which were expected to 
occur ; for there must be unexpectedness, as well as novelty, 

* Vol. iii. p. 57. 



256 CLASS I. LANGUOR. 

in events, or objects, which awaken surprise. Now as all ex- 
pectation supposes previous experience, our knowledge of the 
future being derived from the past, it follows that infants who 
have no experience, cannot be the subjects of surprise. 

The moralist cannot pass from the consideration of this 
emotion, without noticing its importance to our safety and 
happiness. " It is in new circumstances that it is most ne- 
cessary for us to be upon our guard ; because, from their no- 
velty, we cannot be aware of the effects that attend them, and 
require, therefore, more than usual caution, where foresight is 
impossible. But if new circumstances had not produced feel- 
ings peculiarly vivid, little regard might have been paid to 
them, and the evil, therefore, might have been suffered, before 
alarm was felt. Against this danger, nature has most provi- 
dentially guarded us. We cannot feel surprise, without a more 
than ordinary interest in the objects which may have excited 
this emotion, and a consequent tendency to pause, till their 
properties have become, in some degree, known to us. Our 
astonishment may, therefore, be considered as a voice from 
that Almighty goodness which constantly protects us, that, 
in circumstances in which inattention might be perilous, whis- 
pers, or almost cries to us, Beware !"* 



LANGUOR. 






The term Languor is used to designate that mental weari- 
ness which all have felt, and, therefore, all understand, that 
arises from "a long continuance of one unvaried object, or 
from a succession of objects so nearly similar, as scarcely to 
appear varied." Such is the constitution of the mind, that ob- 
jects originally pleasing, if forced upon our view for a long 
period of time, gradually cease to interest, and become at 
length actually painful ; while those which were at first dis- 
pleasing, are rendered more tiresome and offensive by the 
same means. 

In imparting to the human mind the susceptibility of expe- 
riencing this emotion, the great Being who created it, has sup- 
plied us with a powerful stimulus to that state of action for 
which we are formed. The feeling of languor, of which we 
now speak, " is to the mind," says Dr. Brown, " what the 
corresponding pain of hunger is to our bodily health. It gives 
an additional excitement even to the active ; and to far the 

* Brown, vol. iii. p. 65. 



BEAUTY. 257 

greater number of mankind, it is, perhaps, the only excitement 
which could rouse them, from the sloth of ease, to those exer- 
tions, by which their intellectual and moral powers are, in 
some degree at least, more invigorated ; — or by which, not- 
withstanding all their indifference to the welfare of others, 
they are forced to become the unintentional benefactors of 
that society, to which otherwise they might not have given 
the labors^of a single solitary exertion, or even of a single 
thought."* 

BEAUTY. 

On this subject, with reference to which so much has been 
written, it will probably most contribute to the satisfaction of 
the reader, to give an extended outline of the views of one of 
our most distinguished writers, and to compare with them the 
statements of others who have attained great celebrity, endea- 
voring to hold the critical balance with a steady and an impar- 
tial hand. For various reasons I select the statements of Dr. 
Brown. 

The term Beauty, according to this writer, denotes an emo- 
tion, not a sensation. It is not the direct result, that is, of the 
influence of any thing external, upon an organ of sense ; it is 
a feeling subsequent to the perception, or conception, of the ob- 
ject termed beautiful ; and in this respect, is similar to the 
emotion of hope or fear, which dooo not aiise in consequence 
of the possession of the sensitive powers merely, but a suscep- 
tibility of mind which is enjoyed in addition to them. The 
bearing of this statement, in which I entirely agree with Dr. 
Brown, on some of the controverted points with reference to 
beauty, will be afterwards seen. 

What we thus properly term, however, the emotion of beauty, 
is not one feeling of our mind, but many feelings, differing 
widely, as in the case of colors, among themselves, yet suffi- 
ciently analogous to justify us in comprehending them under 
the same general term. 

The term Beauty necessarily denotes a pleasing emotion ; 
for it is found, when analyzed, to be a modification of joy, one 
of the elementary feelings to which our emotions are reducible. 
All objects which agree in exciting this pleasing emotion, we 
denominate beautiful, and for that reason ; as we call a cer- 
tain substance sweet, which produces the sensation of sweet- 

* Vol. iii. p. 70. 



258 CLASS I. — BEAUTY. 

ness. Beauty, like sweetness, is an affection of mind\ and of 
mind only. It cannot exist in material objects. It is not an 
external entity ; . and, therefore, to inquire into a supposed 
common quality, to which we give the name of beautiful, in 
the all but infinite variety of objects which excite the emotion, 
is absurd. The absurdity, however, has been committed ; and 
by some, beauty is said to be a waving line ; by others, a com- 
bination of certain physical qualities, &c. ; as if, says Dr. 
Brown, beauty were any thing in itself, and were not merely 
a general name for all those pleasing emotions which forms, 
colors, sounds, motions, &c. produce. 

This tendency of the mind to regard beauty as some actual 
and external essence which is to be found in every object that 
awakens the emotion, is accounted for by a fact, to the esta- 
blishment of which Dr. Brown devotes a very considerable 
part of his discussion upon the subject ; viz. the general ten- 
dency of the mind to transfer its feelings to the objects which 
produce them. The delight which the beautiful object yields 
we transfer to it, combining it, at least partially, with our very 
conception of the object as beautiful. When we come, indeed, 
to philosophize on the subject, we should say, that external 
beauty is simply that which excites a certain delightful emotion ; 
but when the beautiful object is before us, and we feel its in- 
fluence, we then conceive it to contain in it the very delight 
which we feel; we consider some permanent delight as em- 
bodied in it, so that it would remain boautiful though no eye 
were ever to behold it. A similar transfer takes place with re- 
gard to odors and tastes, and especially colors. What is fra- 
grance or color in a rose ? Nothing surely resembling our sen- 
sations. We admit at once, when questioned on the subject, 
that they are only the unknown causes of certain well-known 
sensations. Yet when the sensations are actually experienced, 
we forget this ; we transfer what we feel to the rose ; we are 
apt then to suppose that a charm, somewhat resembling our 
sensation of fragrance, floats around the flower itself, and ex- 
ists there independently of our feeling. And with regard to co- 
lor especially, Dr. Brown says it is impossible for us to look 
on what we philosophically regard as the unknown causes of 
our sensations, without blending with them the very sensations 
which they awaken, and seeing, therefore, in them the very 
greenness and redness which are feelings of our minds. 

This tendency to spiritualize matter, by regarding it, at least 
momentarily, as the subject of feelings which can only exist in 
the mind, was noticed long ago by D'Alembert. " The bias," 



STATEMENTS OF DR. BROWN. 259 

says he, " we acquire in consequence of habits contracted in 
infancy, to refer to a substance material and divisible, what re- 
ally belongs to a substance spiritual and simple, is a thing well 
worthy of the attention of metaphysicians. Nothing," he adds, 
11 is perhaps more extraordinary, in the operations of mind, 
than to see it transport its sensations out of itself, and to spread 
them, as if were, over a substance to which they cannot pos- 
sibly belong." "It would be difficult," says Mr. Stewart, when 
quoting these words, " to state the fact in terms more brief, 
precise and perspicuous." I subscribe to this judgment of Mr. 
Stewart, but not to the opinion of D'Alembert, that the fact in 
question is most wonderful. Nothing, on the contrary, appears 
to me more natural than to regard the cause as bearing some 
resemblance to the effect ; and the transference of color to ex- 
ternal objects is only a particular manifestation of this natural 
tendency. 

" Now," says Dr. Brown, " if this be the case with refer- 
ence to smells, tastes, and colors, I trust it will not appear too 
bold an assertion to say that the agreeable emotions which cer- 
tain objects excite in us, are capable of being, in our concep- 
tions, combined with the very notion of the objects themselves ; 
and that we term such objects beautiful, by combining in our 
notions of them, the delight which we feel, as we term them 
green, blue, crimson, by combining with them our feelings of 
color. A beautiful object, as felt by us, is an object on which 
we have diffused the delightful feeling of our own mind. 
Though no eye were to behold what is beautiful, we cannot 
but imagine that a certain delight would for ever be flowing 
around it ; as we cannot but imagine, in like manner, that the 
loveliest flower of the wilderness, which buds and withers un- 
marked, is blooming with the same delightful hues which our 
vision would give to it, — and surrounded with that sweetness of 
fragrance, which, in itself, is but a number of exhaled particles, 
that are sweetness only in the sentient mind." 

Thus beauty, according to Dr. Brown, is an emotion that is 
pleasing, and it is an emotion which we diffuse and combine 
with our conception of the object that may have excited it ; 
and these two circumstances, he adds — '* the pleasing nature 
of the emotion itself, and the identification of it with the object 
that excites it — are the only circumstances that are essential 
to it in all its varieties." 

The transference, however, of this pleasing emotion to the 
object, implies its previous existence ; and the recollection of 
this self-evident truth suggests the important inquiries, How 



260 CLASS I. BEAUTY. 

does it come to pass that certain objects only excite this pleas- 
ing emotion, and from whence do they derive their power to 
produce it? 

These questions, or rather this question, for we have here in 
reality only one question, has greatly divided the philosophical 
world ; some maintaining, on the one hand, that many objects 
have primarily and absolutely the power of a wakening the emo- 
tion of beauty ; while others contend, on the other hand, that 
they derive it exclusively from association. 

Dr. Brown, and Mr. Payne Knight, arrange themselves in 
the former class. They both appeal to the fact — for I am dis- 
posed to concede that it is a fact — that there are certain colors, 
and certain distributions of colors, which seem naturally to de- 
light the child and the savage ; and the former seems to ima- 
gine, without sufficient reason, as it appears to me, that the 
smile of the mother, like the cry of the parent hen calling her 
brood to feast upon the discovered corn, may be an instinctive 
sign of pleasure of which a delightful emotion may be the im- 
mediate consequence. Those who have more knowledge of 
children than it is probable Dr. Brown possessed, will scarce- 
ly be able to persuade themselves that infants are able to un- 
lock the meaning of a smile, or a frown, till experience has 
supplied them with the key. 

The Rev. Mr. Alison, on the other hand, and Mr. Jeffrey, 
editor of the Edinburgh Review,* resolve the beauty of all ex- 
ternal objects into association, or suggestion. With certain ob- 
jects, certain agreeable feelings — feelings received by means 
of some of the ordinary susceptibilities of the mind — have co- 
existed ; the perception or conception of these objects will, by 
the ordinary laws of suggestion, recall these feelings. In the 
opinion, therefore, of both these writers, beauty is not an inhe- 
rent property, or quality of external objects ; it does not de- 
pend upon any particular configuration of their parts, or pro- 
portions, or colors ; but it is the power they possess of recall- 
ing those agreeable feelings " of which they have been the ac- 
companiments, or with which they have been associated in 
our imagination by any other more casual bond of connexion. " 

There is, however, a considerable difference of opinion be- 
tween these writers on one point of importance. Mr. Alison, 
to account for the vividness of the emotion of beauty, seems 
to think it necessary to suppose, that the beautiful object sug- 
gests a long train of pleasing images, each contributing its own 

* Vide article Beauly, Supplement to the Encyc. Brit. 



THE RESULT OF ASSOCIATION. 201 

share to the enjoyment, and producing altogether a large 
amount of delight. Mr. Jeffrey admits that such a train of 
thought may arise, but maintains that it is not necessary to the 
perception of beauty, which, he says, "is in most cases instan- 
taneous, and as immediate as the perception of the external 
qualities of the object to which it is ascribed." If the appeal be 
made to experience, there can be little doubt that Mr. Alison 
will be found to be in error here. The emotion of beauty does 
not gradually rise in vividness, as Mr. Alison represents. 
There is not the pouring in of one little streamlet of joy after 
another, but the tide of delight is at once full. And it is a cor- 
rect, and an important remark, that " the more intense the feel- 
ing of beauty is, the less is the tendency of the mind to pass 
from the delightful object which fills the heart, as it fills the 
eyes, to images of distant analogy." 

The preceding statements tend to show the fallacy of the 
following objection against the general views of Messrs. Ali- 
son and Jeffrey. " Any theory respecting the beautiful which 
professes to explain our agreeable impressions by the princi- 
ple of association alone, must be radically erroneous. It in- 
volves," as Mr. Stewart has justly and acutely remarked, "a 
manifest absurdity. Unless some perceptions be supposed 
which are originally pleasing, there is nothing on which the 
associating principle can act. There can be no accumulation 
without a capital."* If, with the above passage, be compared 
the following statement of Dr. Brown, in which he describes, 
with singular felicity, the manner in which association may be- 
come the source of beauty, the reader will be at no loss to see 
that, on this subject at least, there may be accumulation with- 
out capital — or that agreeable feelings may become associated 
with objects which yield no direct pleasure. " The perception 
of an object, (i. e. any object) has originally co-existed with 
a certain pleasure— a pleasure, which, perhaps, may have fre- 
quently recurred together with the perception— and which thus 
forms with it in the mind one complex feeling, f that is instantly 
recalled by the mere perception of the object in its subsequent 
recurrences. With this complex state, so recalled, other ac- 
cidental pleasures may afterwards co-exist in like manner, and 
form a more complex delight ; but a delight which is still, when 
felt, one momentary state of mind, capable of being instantly 
recalled by the perception of the object, as much as the simpler 
delight in the earlier stage. The embellishing influence of as- 

* Vide Christian Observer, 1812. f Vide p 31 
23 



262 CLASS I. BEAUTY 

sociation may thus be progressive in various stages ; because 
new accessions of pleasure are continually rendering more 
complex the delight that is afterwards to be suggested ; but 
that which is suggested in the later stages, though the result of 
a progress, is, in itself, in each subsequent perception of the 
object which it embellishes, immediate. We spread the charm 
over the object with the same rapidity with which we spread 
over it the colors which it seems to beam upon us."* He 
states, also, that " this pleasure may be recalled, not only by 
the object with which it originally co-existed, but by an object 
similar, and analogous to it ; which thus, even when we first 
gaze upon it, may appear to have a sort of original loveliness? 
which, but for the rapid and unperceived suggestion, it would 
not have possessed. One degree of beauty is thus acquired 
by every object similar to that which has been a source to us 
of any primary pleasure." 

In attempting to guide the reader in his efforts to ascertain 
where the truth lies, amidst these conflicting statements, I 
would request him to notice, 

First, the exceedingly narrow basis on which Dr. Brown 
builds his doctrine of the original beauty of material objects. 
That basis, as we have seen, is the fact that certain colors 
and sounds seem naturally more agreeable to children and sa- 
vages, than others. This is the exclusive basis ; for the state- 
ment which seems to give, though with great hesitation, native 
beauty to the mother's smile, I must be permitted, with all de- 
ference to Dr. Brown, to throw out of the question. Mr. Jef- 
frey seems to doubt the correctness of the statements of Dr. 
Brown ; with little reason, however, I apprehend. I concede 
at once the alledged fact, that some colors delight infants and 
savages, who, in this respect, are infants, more than others ; 
but Dr. Brown has to prove that this delight is the emotion of 
beauty, ^ind not a mere pleasure of sense. It is not probable that 
all colors, any more than all odors, yield naturally the same 
measure of sensitive enjoyment. The sensation of blackness 
may not be equally grateful with the sensation of redness. 
Children may, accordingly, and I apprehend actually do, pre- 
fer colors glaring and strong, merely because they stimulate 
more powerfully, and so are, as mere sensations, more pleas- 
ing than others. The foundation, therefore, on which Dr. 
Brown erects his argument, must be held to be not merely 
narrow, but insecure, till he has proved that the delight of 

* Vol. iii. pp. 168-9. 



•OF MATERIAL OBJECTS NOT ORIGINAL. 263 

•children, &c. is not mere sensitive delight. He attempts to 
show that this cannot be the case, inasmuch as the sensitive 
feelings are now, as he alledges, what they were in infancy; 
while the colors, and dispositions of colors, which delight the 
child, are not those which delight us. But why must they be 
the same now as they were in infancy? We should little have 
expected this assertion from a writer who maintains that it is 
in the power of habit not merely to modify original sensations, 
but absolutely to reverse them — to render that pleasant which 
was originally disagreeable.* Besides, he forgets the obvious 
fact, that to us association has embellished some colors more 
than others ; so that, without supposing any modification of the 
original sensation, this embellishment may turn the scale in 
favor of those colors which, as the mere sources of sensitive 
delight, are less valuable than others. 

There is, on this point, considerable difference of opinion 
between Dr. Brown and Mr. Payne Knight. They agree in 
thinking that certain colors and sounds yield naturally more 
pleasure than others. The latter, however, conceives that this 
pleasure is a sensation ; so that, according to his statements, 
our original and natural emotions of beauty are of the same 
order of feelings with the fragrance of a rose or the flavor of a 
peach. Dr. Brown, as we have seen, denies this. They are 
not, he thinks, external, but internal affections ; not sensations, 
but emotions ; which may succeed sensations, or not, he says, 
according to circumstances. The difficulties which both opi- 
nions have to encounter, will be more fully considered after- 
wards. 

Secondly*, I would request the reader to consider the com- 
paratively small number of our emotions of beauty which are 
considered, either by Dr. Brown or Mr. Payne Knight, as re- 
sulting from an original tendency of mind to this feeling. Dr. 
Brown expressly says, " it is only a small part of this order of 
emotions, which we can ascribe to such a source, and these, 
as I conceive, of very humble value, in relation to other more 
important emotions of this order, which are truly the produc- 
tion of associations of various kinds."~f Mr. Payne Knight, 
also, agrees with Mr. Alison in holding the most important, 
and, indeed, the only considerable part of beauty, to depend 
upon association, and has illustrated this opinion with a great 
variety of just and original observations. 

These concessions enable us to decide upon the correctness 

* Vol. iii. p. 139. t Ibid. pp. 143-4, 



264 CLASS I. BEAUTY 

of Dr. Brown's assertion, that the burden of truth does not 
rest with the believers, but with the deniers of original beauty 
— an assertion that appears to me at variance with the whole 
spirit of his philosophy, which teaches us not to multiply 
powers unnecessarily. Admitting, as he does, that most of 
our emotions of beauty are the result of association, it follows 
that he ought not to call in the aid of an original susceptibility 
to account for any, unless he is able to show that they cannot 
spring from association. Necessity only, on his principles, 
will justify the supposition of original emotions of beauty ; i. e. 
the onus probandi rests upon the believers in original beauty. 
The system of Dr. Brown, by maintaining that the superior 
delights which some colors afford children is not a sensation, 
but an emotion of beauty, appears to me entangled in a diffi- 
culty, which does not encumber the statements of Mr. Payne 
Knight. An emotion, according to the system of Dr. Brown, 
is a feeling sui generis — of a totally different order from a 
sensation. An original emotion of beauty differs, then, gene- 
rically from a sensation ; but an emotion of beauty, the result 
of association, may be nothing more than a reflected, or a re- 
called sensation — the revival, though in a fainter degree, of a 
former sensitive affection ; so that our emotions of beauty 
may comprehend two distinct classes of feelings. 

Thirdly, I would call the attention of the reader to the in- 
quiry, whether original emotions of beauty do not necessarily 
suppose that some distinct quality, to which we may give the 
name of beauty, exists in external objects. This, as we have 
seen, is denied by Dr. Brown. Beauty is not, he says, any 
thing which exists in objects, and permanent, therefore, as the 
objects in which it is falsely supposed to exist. Now, if all 
beauty be the result of association, the truth of these state- 
ments is apparent. But, if there be objects, as he maintains, 
which excite originally, without any previous association, the 
emotions of beauty, I do not see how the consistency of these 
statements can be maintained. Doubtless there is no beauty 
like what we feel, and transfer, in the objects which awaken 
the emotion, as there is nothing in the rose which resembles 
our sensations of fragrance, and of sight. But as the delight- 
ful feeling of beauty must be excited, before it can be reflected 
upon the object, and as that feeling cannot he excited without 
a cause, it seems to follow, as a necessary consequence, either 
that the beautiful object must have some permanent quality 
which awakens the emotion, or that it must derive its power to 
excite it from association. Our sensations of smell, taste, 



OF MATERIAL OBJECTS NOT ORIGINAL. 265 

color, &c. would not exist, if there were no cause of the feel- 
ing in external objects, though we know not what that cause is. 
In like manner, the emotions of beauty, which Dr. Brown con- 
siders original, could not arise without a cause. And if there 
be a cause of the emotions in external objects — a cause which 
is not to be ascribed to association — that cause is beauty in the 
objects, as the cause of fragrance in a rose, is the fragrance of 
the rose. If there be original emotions of beauty, then, as it 
appears to me, external objects must have native beauty. 

Fourthly, I would request the reader to observe the difficul- 
ties with which the notion of original emotions of beauty is 
embarrassed. How is it possible to reconcile, with this no- 
tion, the various, and even opposite tastes of men ? Our sen- 
sitive feelings are natural, and hence they are generally uni- 
form. What is sweet, bitter, tasteless, red, scarlet or black, to 
one man, is so to another; and yet though we have, as it is 
contended, original emotions of beauty, there is amongst dif- 
ferent individuals, great diversity, and even direct contrariety 
here. Where one sees beauty, another sees none — nay, re- 
cognizes, it may be, hideous deformity. A Chinese lover 
would see no attractions in a belle of London, or Paris ; and 
a Bond-street exquisite would discover nothing but deformity 
in the Venus of the Hottentots. " A little distance in time 
produces the same effects, as distance in place ; — the gardens, 
the furniture, the dress, which appeared beautiful in the eyes 
of our grandfathers, are odious and ridiculous in ours. Nay, 
the difference of rank, education, or employments, gives rise 
to the same difference of sensation. The little shopkeeper 
sees a beauty in his road-side box, and in the staring tile roof, 
wooden lions, and clipped box-wood, which strike horror into 
the soul of the student of the picturesque — while he is trans- 
ported in surveying the fragments of ancient sculpture, which 
are nothing but ugly masses of moldering stones in the judg- 
ment of the admirer of neatness."* 

If our emotions of beauty are the result of association, all 
this is easily explained ; but if even only a small portion of 
their number is the result of an original power, or suscepti- 
bility, how is the fact to be accounted for ? And, if we are to 
suppose, with Mr. Payne Knight, that original emotions of 
beauty are in fact sensitive affections, the difficulty of ex- 
plaining it abundantly increases. How does it happen that 
these particular sensations are susceptible of a change, which 

* Supplement to Encyclopaedia Britannica— article Beauty, p. 173. 
23* 



266 CLASS I. BEAUTY 

no other sensations undergo ? What other organic feelings 
are so frequently reversed, or obliterated ? And more especi- 
ally, what other organic feeling is so powerfully affected by 
the principle of suggestion 1 When did association change the 
taste of a peach, or the color of a rose ? The difficulty which 
thus presses upon the doctrine of original beauty, Dr. Brown 
endeavors to obviate, by stating, as we have seen, that beauty 
is not a sensation, but an emotion. He admits that, if it were 
the result of our organic powers, or even of an internal sense, 
which, like our other senses, must force upon the mind con- 
stantly, or almost constantly, a particular feeling, when a par- 
ticular object is present, there would not be this amazing di- 
versity in the feelings of beauty. But emotions, he says, are 
capable of being modified to a much greater extent than sen- 
sations. He refers particularly to the emotion of Desire, in 
illustration and confirmation of his sentiments. No one, he 
argues, will contend that all objects are naturally equally desi- 
rable — or rather, that there are none which, prior to all pleasing 
associations, awaken the feeling of desire ; and yet circum- 
stances may vanquish, and even invert this tendency. " In 
all ages," he continues, " the race of mankind are bom with 
certain susceptibilities, which, if circumstances were not dif- 
ferent, would lead them, as one great multitude, to form very 
nearly the same wishes ; but the difference of circumstances 
produces a corresponding diversity of passions, that scarcely 
seems to flow from the same source. In like manner, the 
race of mankind, considered as a great multitude, might be, 
in all ages, endowed with the same susceptibilities of the emo- 
tion of beauty, which would lead them, upon Ihe whole, to find 
the same pleasure in the contemplation of the same objects ; — 
if different circumstances did not produce views of utility, and 
associations of various sorts, that diversify the emotion it- 
self."* 

I cannot fully reply to this statement now, because it in- 
volves what I cannot but consider a mistake with respect to 
the feeling called Desire, into which I must not at present en- 
ter. It manifestly supposes that there are objects which origi- 
nally, and, as it were, instinctively — without any previous con- 
ception of them as good — awaken the feeJing of desire, or 
there would not be a fair parallel between them and original 
emotions of beauty. This doctrine, with respect to desire, I 
do not admit. But at present, all I can say in reply to this 

* Vol. iii. p. 127. 



THE RESULT OF ASSOCIATION. 267 

statement of Dr. Brown is, that there is not, by any means, 
the same diversity in the desires, as in the tastes of men. 
The former may be accounted for by the influence of modi- 
fying circumstances ; it does not appear to me that the latter 
can. 

Fifthly, I would request the reader to observe how easily 
our emotions of beauty received from external objects, may be 
shown to arise from association. " A young and beautiful coun- 
tenance charms us, and we are apt to imagine that the forms 
and colors which it displays, would produce the same effect 
upon us, independently of association. It is manifest, however, 
that what we admire is not a combination of forms and colors, 
which could never excite any mental emotion ; but a collection 
of signs and tokens of certain mental feelings and affections, 
which are universally recognized as the proper objects of love 
and sympathy. It is the youth, and health, and innocence, and 
gayety, and sensibility, and delicacy, and vivacity, indicated by 
these signs, that awaken the emotion of beauty ; and had they 
been indicative of opposite qualities, — had the smile that now 
enchants us, been attached by nature to guilt and malignity — 
or the blush which expresses delicacy, been united with brutal 
passions, — it cannot be doubted that our emotions would be 
exactly the reverse of what they are. Mr. Knight himself 
thinks it entirely owing to these associations, that we prefer 
the tame smoothness, and comparatively poor colors of a youth- 
ful face, to the richly fretted and variegated countenance of a 
pimpled drunkard."* 

The same writer proceeds to show in what manner associa- 
tion gives beauty to inanimate objects. A common English 
landscape is beautiful ; but its beauty consists in the picture of 
human happiness that is presented to our imaginations and af- 
fections — in the visible and cheerful signs of comfort and con- 
tented and peaceful enjoyment. Spring is beautiful ; it is as- 
sociated with the hope of approaching abundance. Autumn is 
beautiful ; it is the season when this abundance appears in a 
state of maturity. The blue sky, by day, is beautiful ; it is as- 
sociated with all the comforts of fine weather; and hence the 
sky, in the evening twilight, though of a different color, is 
equally beautiful. Bodies divested of corners and angles, are 
generally more beautiful than others. Who can doubt that 
their beauty is derived from association with pleasant sensa- 
tions of touch ? 

* Article Beauty, p. 182. 



268 CLASS I. — BEAUTY 

The reader, who has opportunity, cannot fail to be exceed- 
ingly delighted to travel with Mr. Jeffrey through the whole of 
his illustrations ; I cannot even advert to them. There is, 
however, one statement in support of his general doctrine con- 
cerning beauty, derived from the structure of language, which 
I must quote for the benefit of those who may not have access 
to the work in which it is contained. " It is very remarkable 
that while almost all the words by which the affections of mind 
are expressed, seem to have been borrowed originally from the 
qualities of matter, the epithets by which we learn afterwards 
to distinguish such material objects as are felt to be sublime 
or beautiful, are all of them epithets that had been previously 
appropriated to express some quality or emotion of mind. 
Colors are said to be gay or grave ; motions to be lively, or 
deliberate, or. capricious ; forms to be delicate or modest; 
sounds to be animated or mournful ; prospects to be cheerful 
or melancholy ; rocks to be bold, waters to be tranquil, and a 
thousand other phrases of the same import ; all indicating most 
unequivocally the sources from which our interest in matter is 
derived, and proving that it is necessary, in all cases, to con- 
fer mind and feeling upon it, before it can be conceived aa 
either sublime or beautiful."* Beauty is not then a quality in 
external objects, but the reflection of emotions, excited by the 
feelings or condition of sentient beings. 

But if all our emotions of beauty, derived from external ob- 
jects, are the result of association, how does it happen, it 
will perhaps be inquired, that there should be so remarkable a 
degree of uniformity of taste among well-educated men ? Con- 
sidering the various circumstances in which they are placed, 
the point of difficulty, it may be said, is to account not for di- 
versity, but partial similarity and identity, in their emotions of 
beauty. The following answer to the question is given by Dr. 
Brown. " The term Beauty is a general term ; it is applied to 
all those objects which are adapted to produce the same gene- 
ral emotion. And in our inquiries what are the objects which 
possess this adaptation, we observe not merely what gives de- 
light to ourselves, but what gives delight also to the greater 
number of the cultivated minds around us ; and what might be 
capricious in one mind, is thus tempered by the result of more 
general associations in the many. In this manner we form a 
general standard of beauty — a relative notion of fitness to ex- 
cite a certain amount of delight — which seems to be for ever in 

* P. 188. 



THE RESULT OF ASSOCIATION. 269 

our mind to direct us, according to which we fix at some pre- 
cise degree the varying beauty of the moment."* 

The preceding statement illustrates very admirably the man- 
ner in which a high degree of critical taste is acquired, under- 
standing by the word taste here, an intellectual perception, 
rather than a feeling ; but it does not appear to me to throw 
any light upon the question, " how it happens that all men, 
though placed in infinitely diversified circumstances, should 
experience emotions of beauty from the same objects ?" The 
true answer seems to be, that though there are associations 
peculiar to the man, there are also associations common to the 
species. It is not one man who associates the pleasures of 
fine weather with the blue appearance of the sky ; all men do 
it. The sky, accordingly, is not beautiful to one, but to all 
men. 

Finally, the scheme which resolves all external beauty into 
association or suggestion, is recommended by several impor- 
tant considerations, at which I shall briefly glance. 

It will explain, I conceive, all the phsenomena of beauty. 
Dr. Brown does not specify a single instance of the emotion 
which he will venture to say cannot be ascribed to the suggest- 
ing principle. The amount of his statement is, that there are 
some which may arise from an original tendency of mind ; or, 
at the utmost, which do thus arise. 

It effectually prevents the necessity of inquiring concerning 
the quality, in external objects, which excites the emotion — 
an inquiry which, in consequence of the infinite diversity of ob- 
jects by which the emotion is produced, would throw us into in- 
terminable difficulties. Dr. Brown's system, as we have seen, 
does not prevent this necessity. If there be original emotions 
of beauty, there must be something in the objects, by which the 
emotion is awakened, to produce it ; or why do not all objects 
excite it ? The question then naturally and necessarily arises, 
"What is that something? — or, in other words, What is 
Beauty ? But if association be the source of beauty, all exter- 
nal objects are beautiful, with which interesting associations 
have been formed ; and their power to awaken that pleasurable 
feeling which constitutes the emotion, is their beauty. 

It gets rid of all the mystery which has been thrown over 
the subject, by the supposition of a peculiar sense or faculty 
given us for the express purpose of perceiving beauty ; and 
shows us that what is called the faculty of taste, is either the 

* Pp. 169-70. 



270 



CLASS I. — SUBLIMITY. 



knowledge, gathered from observation and experience, of what 
will produce generally the emotions of beauty ; or the power 
of deriving pleasure from certain objects, with which interest- 
ing associations have been formed by those who are regarded 
as the most polished and refined of our species— a power 
which is gained by subjecting the mind to that discipline which 
will lead to the formation of similar associations. 

SUBLIMITY. 

Sublimity, considered as a feeling of the mind, admits not of 
definition ; regarded as existing in the external object, it is 
that which fits it to awaken the emotion ; a sublime object is 
one which produces the impression of sublimity. 

As it has been observed in relation to beauty, there can be 
nothing resembling our emotion of sublimity, in the outward 
and material object by which it is awakened. Yet, as in the 
case of beauty and of color, the feeling maybe transported out 
of the mind, and embodied in the object, " which, accordingly, 
seems to bear about with it that awful sublimity which exists 
nowhere but in our own consciousness." 

By most writers on this subject, sublimity has been repre- 
sented not merely as something radically different from beauty, 
but actually opposed to it. This sentiment has to encounter 
the high authority of Messrs. Jeffrey, and Stewart, and Dr. 
Brown. The latter tells us that the kindred emotions of beauty 
and sublimity shadow into one another — that they are merely 
different parts of a series of emotions, gradually rising from 
the faintest beauty to the vastest sublimity. To the lower 
part of this series we give the name of Beauty, — to the higher, 
the name of Sublimity, — and to the intermediate class, we 
might, he thinks, give that of Grandeur ; — and, having thus de- 
nominated them, we are, he says, apt to imagine that we have 
three classes of emotions, widely differing from each other, 
though the invention of the terms to which we have referred, 
cannot manifestly alter the nature of the feelings they are em- 
ployed to designate. 

I have more doubt of the justness of the conclusion than 
of the premises here. The prismatic colors shade into one. 
another, so that it is impossible to say where one terminates 
and another commences ; but does it follow from hence that 
red, orange, green, blue, &c. are radically the samel In like 
manner, the sensation of genial warmth gradually rises, it may 
be, into that of intolerable heat ; but should we be safe in con- 



SUBLIMITY. 271 

eluding, from this circumstance, that there is no difference be- 
tween pleasure and pain ? There is, also, another considera- 
tion which serves to throw some doubt over this opinion of Dr. 
Brown. If there is no difference between the emotions of 
beauty and sublimity — if the latter are to be regarded as the 
former, in the superlative degree — it would seem to follow as 
a necessary consequence, that an abatement of sublimity would 
bring us down, so to speak, to beauty. This is, however, con- 
trary to fact, according to the statements of Dr. Brown himself. 
" So far is it," he says, "from being indispensable to sublimity, that 
beauty should be the characteristic of the same circumstance in a 
less degree, that, in many instances, what is absolutely the re- 
verse of beautiful, becomes sublime, by the exclusion of every 
thing that could excite of itself that delightful but gentle emo- 
tion. A slight degree of barren dreariness in any country 
through which we pass, produces only feelings that are disa- 
greeable ; a wide extent of desolation, when the eye can see 
no verdure as far as it can reach, but only rocks that rise at 
irregular intervals through the sandy waste, has a sort of 
savage sublimity which we almost delight to contemplate.' 7 * 

That Dr. Brown has correctly and beautifully stated the 
fact, there is no doubt; but how does it harmonize with his 
statement, that sublimity is a class of feelings not essentially 
different from beauty ? There appears, at least, to be an in- 
congruity almost as great between the two passages, as if it 
should be said that the way to render a man perfect in benevo- 
lence, is to strip him of every degree of kindness. If there be 
no radical difference between beauty and sublimity, there can 
be no sublimity without beauty, as there cannot be the super- 
lative whitest, without the quality of whiteness itself; in some 
cases, however, he says, the emotion of beauty does not inter- 
mingle with the compound feeling of sublimity. It is more dif- 
ficult, also, to maintain Dr. Brown's consistency, because he 
does not admit that the emotion of sublimity, in the case re- 
ferred to, is the result of association. Those who trace it to 
this latter source, find no difficulty in accounting for the fact. 
A wide extent of desolation suggests, either directly or by 
analogy, the notion of vast power, which a slight degree of bar- 
renness would not; hence its sublimity. 

As in the case of beauty, Dr. Brown maintains that many 
external objects excite, independently of association, the emo- 
tions of sublimity. "We must not suppose," he says, "that, 

* Pp. 185-6. 



272 CLASS I. SUBLIMITY 

but for the accident of some mental association, the immensity 
of space would be considered by us with the same indifference 
as a single atom, — or the whole tempest of surges, in the seem- 
ingly boundless world of waters, with as little emotion as the 
shallow pool that may chance to be dimpling before our eyes." 

This opinion concerning original emotions of sublimity, is 
held in connexion with the assertion, that there is no sublimity 
in objects ; — an error, as it appears to me at least, similar to 
that which was noticed with reference to beauty, and the influ- 
ence of which may be traced in several parts of Dr. Brown's 
philosophy. I notice it more fully than I should have done, on 
that account. If by denying sublimity to those objects which 
awaken the emotion without the aid of association, Dr. Brown 
means no more than that nothing resembling our feeling is to 
be found in them, he is doubtless right ; but in that case he 
sets himself to deny what no one has ever thought of main- 
taining. If he intends to affirm that the objects, by which the 
emotion is excited, contain nothing in them to awaken it, he 
contradicts his own affirmation, that the feeling of sublimity 
cannot arise without a cause. If he admits that the objects in 
question contain some property, or quality, not possessed by 
others, from which the emotion results, then that property is 
sublimity in them ; as color in an orange is that unknown pro- 
perty from whence results the sensation. If Dr. Brown held 
that the emotion of sublimity is the result of association, he 
might consistently deny sublimity to things external. In that 
case, it would be perfectly correct to say that it is the mind which 
gives them their sublimity. But, on his system, even if we grant 
that,at a second stage of the business, the mind transfers some- 
thing to the object, it is beyond all question that, in the first 
stage, the object transfers something to the mind — the object 
must give the mind sublimity, before the mind can give subli- 
mity to the object. And if some objects only give sublimity to the 
mind, it surely is not an unnecessary, much less an absurd in- 
quiry, " What are these objects ?" or, " What is the quality in 
them by which the emotion is produced ?" Would Dr. Brown 
say, that to inquire into the cause of color in bodies, however 
profitless such inquiry might be, would be to renew all the ab- 
surdities of the a parte rei ? Why then should any speculation 
concerning beauty or sublimity in objects be thus character- 
ized, if there be something in objects which fits them to awa- 
ken the emotions of beauty and sublimity ? 

With Messrs. Alison and Jeffrey, I regard the feeling of 
sublimity, when excited by material objects, as the result of 



THE RESULT OF ASSOCIATION. 273 

association. Nothing can be more sublime than the sound of 
thunder. We mistake the rumbling of a cart, at a distance, for 
thunder. The nicest ear cannot detect any difference between 
the two sounds ; they are equally sublime, till we learn that we 
have been mistaken in the cause of the latter sound ; all feel- 
ing of sublimity vanishes with the information. " What is it," 
says Mr. Alison, " that constitutes that emotion of sublime de- 
light, which every man of common sensibility feels upon the 
first prospect of Rome ?" — " It is ancient Rome which fills his 
imagination. It is the country of Caesar, and Cicero, and Vir- 
gil, which is before him. It is the mistress of the world which 
he sees, and who seems to him to rise again from her tomb, to 
give laws to the universe."—" Take from him these associa- 
tions, conceal from him that it is Rome that he sees, and how 
different would be his emotions !" 

I agree with Dr. Brown, that the quality or property, on the 
presence of which the emotions of sublimity arise, is vast- 
ness ; but the question is, " Do the emotions directly flow 
from the perception of this quality, as the sensation of fra- 
grance is the direct result of the contact of certain particles 
and the olfactory nerve — or are they excited through the me- 
dium of those conceptions of power, or wisdom, which the 
view of the quality suggests ?" I cannot but regard the last 
member of the preceding question as exhibiting the real fact 
of the case. If any thing stupendous in the material world 
could be contemplated without suggesting the notion of great- 
ness of power, or wisdom, it would possess, I imagine, no 
sublimity. Mountains piled upon mountains, precipices over- 
hanging precipices — the torrent rushing over the verge of the 
rock worn smooth by its constant action, and thundering as it 
plunges into the abyss below — and the hurricane, annihilating 
the beauty over which it sweeps, and enabling us to track its 
course by the desolation which it leaves behind it, owe their 
grandeur to a lively conception of the energy of that power 
which called them into being, and which urges them forwards 
in their impetuous and resistless career. Hence the rum- 
bling of a cart loses its sublimity when it ceases to be mis- 
taken for thunder. Our knowledge of the cause of the sound 
breaks the association between it and the conception of power 
which it had awakened, and accordingly it is sublime no 
longer. 

It is, then, we think, the conception of power and wisdom, 
however the conception may be introduced into the mind, that 
awakens the emotion of sublimity. Whatever, therefore, " is 

24 



274 CLASS I. SUBLIMITY. 

vast in the material world — whatever is supremely compre- 
hensive in intellect — whatever in morals implies virtuous af- 
fections, or passions, far removed beyond the ordinary level 
of humanity ; or even guilt itself, that is ennobled, in some 
measure, by the fearlessness of its darings, or the magnitude 
of the ends to which it has had the boldness to aspire — these, 
and various other objects, in matter and mind, produce the 
vivid feelings of sublimity," On this account, the words of 
inspiration, so frequently appealed to, exhibiting this universe 
rising into being at the creating fiat, are sublime in the high- 
est degree. The conduct of the soldier, referred to by Dr. 
Brown, who, during a famine, shared, for a long period of time, 
his scanty allowance with his comrade, whose enmity he had 
formerly experienced, exhibits great virtue ; the action, ac- 
cordingly, is not heroic merely, it is sublime. The act of our 
Redeemer, in giving himself for us, when we were enemies, 
ungodly, &c. is hence,, also, encircled with a splendor of mo- 
ral sublimity which eclipses all inferior excellence ; it exhi- 
bits an amplitude and vastness of moral virtue, exalted above 
all rivalship. How, then, does it happen, we may well ask, 
that while the devotion of Leonidas and his Spartans is never 
referred to, by men of refinement, without a warm tribute of 
praise, the sublime sacrifice of the Son of God — though, as a 
mere matter of taste, it ought to win for itself unparalleled ad- 
miration — extorts from them but too frequently not a single 
word of approbation ! 

There is, then, we think, no sublimity m external things. 
There is not only nothing in them which resembles the emo- 
tion we experience ; but there is no permanent quality in them 
which can be said to be the unknown cause of the mental 
feeling. Sublimity is not (n them, even as fragrance is in the 
rose ; for the rose actually possesses that from whence the 
sensation of fragrance directly results ; whereas, the cause of 
our emotions of sublimity is something which our imagina- 
tions have spread over external objects — certain affecting con- 
ceptions of power, or wisdom, in which we, so to speak, have 
arrayed them. Divest them of this covering, and of the unity 
which the mind only gives to them,* and they will appear " a 
multitude of separate and independent atoms, and nothing 
more." 

If vastness, or any kindred property, which may suggest the 
notion of power, be that with which the emotion of sublimity is 

* P. 30. 



DEFORMITY AND LUDICROUSNESS. 275 

connected, we see the reason of two or three facts referred to 
by Dr. Brown, and which are, on his system, difficult to ex- 
plain. Beauty is sometimes, he states, an ingredient in sub- 
limity ; at others, it is not so, though the two feelings are not, 
he thinks, essentially distinct from each other. The feeling 
of sublimity, is also, he adds, occasionally more akin to terror 
than to beauty. All this is perfectly consistent with the pre- 
ceding statements. A lofty mountain, for instance, may be 
sublime from its magnitude, and beautiful from its form and 
contour ; or its outline may be rugged, and unsightly. Could 
we shut out all apprehension of danger, what could be more 
feeautiful than a vivid flash of lightning, in the stillness of the 
night, lifting for a moment the veil of darkness, and disclosing 
all the loveliness which it conceals % It is associated, however, 
with the notion of great power — -power which may become 
the source of mischief, yea, of destruction to us ; hence it is 
rather sublime than beautiful, and, in certain slates of mind, 
more terrible than either ; i. e. it awakens only conceptions of 
danger, though, in other circumstances, it might have led to 
the notion of power, or recalled those feelings of pleasure in 
which the emotions of beauty consist. 

All objects, then, derive their beauty and sublimity from as- 
sociation. The associated feelings, however, which confer 
upon them this adornment, are different ; a circumstance 
which would appear to intimate, for I speak with hesitation and 
diffidence on this point, that the emotions of beauty and sub- 
limity differ from each other. 

DEFORMITY AND LUDICROUSNESS. 

The opposite emotion to beauty is deformity ; while ludi- 
crousness stands in contrast[with sublimity. A few words will 
comprise all that is necessary to say with regard to these emo- 
tions. Ludicrousness is that light mirth we feel on the unex- 
pected perception of a strange mixture of congruity or incon- 
gruity. The congruity or incongruity, from which the emotion 
results, may exist in the language merely ; as in the case of 
puns, where there is an agreement of sound, and a disagreement 
of sense ; — or in the thoughts and images which language ex- 
presses ; as when it brings to light some unexpected resem- 
ijlances of objects or qualities, formerly regarded as incongru- 
ous — or some equally unexpected diversity among those in 
which the resemblance had been supposed before to be com- 
plete : or, in many cases, in the venj objects ej our direct per- 



276 CLASS I. MORAL APPROBATION 

ceplion ; as when any well-dressed person, walking along the 
street, falls into the mud of some splashy gutter; in this case, 
the situation and the dirt, combined with the character and ap- 
pearance of the unfortunate stumbler, form a sort of natural 
burlesque, or mock heroic, in which there is a mixture of the 
noble and the mean, as in any of the works of art to which 
those names are given. 

Dr. Brown considers this emotion as a complex state of 
mind, containing the following elements : — a combination of 
astonishment, resulting from the unexpectedness of the con- 
gruity or incongruity that is perceived ; and a vivid feeling of 
delight, one of the forms of that joy or gladness which consti- 
tutes one of the elementary emotions. 

MORAL APPROBATION AND DISAPPROBATION. 

The emotions we now proceed to consider arise in the mind 
on the contemplation of virtue and vice. Moral rectitude, as 
we shall afterwards see, is the correspondence or harmony of 
our mental affections, and our external conduct, with the va- 
rious relations we sustain ; and the Creator of the mind has 
not merely imparted to it the power of discerning this corre- 
spondence, but of approving an action which is manifestly in 
conformity with rectitude, and of disapproving another which 
as obviously violates it. 

Most writers on ethical subjects admit the existence of mo- 
ral judgments — or a power of distinguishing right from wrong ; 
but some appear to forget that we have moral emotions, as well 
as moral judgments ; or, in other words, that there is in the 
mind an original susceptibility of moral emotion, in conse- 
quence of which, actions of a moral character are regarded 
with powerful feelings of approval, or condemnation. 

It is, however, as undoubted that the mind has been formed 
to approve what is right, as the intellect to discern it. Let the 
appeal be made to consciousness, and it will be found that the 
man who errs in argument, and the man who deviates from the 
rule of moral rectitude, are viewed with very different feelings. 
It is the judgment which detects what is incorrect both in the 
reasoning and the conduct; bu(,in the latter case, there is a vivid 
emotion of disapprobation subsequent to the judgment, which 
never follows a mere mistake in ratiocination. And, if we ga- 
ther the verdict of observation and experience, we shall find it 
in perfect harmony with the testimony of consciousness. Men 
who have shaken off the fetters of moral restraint, may be held 



AND DISAPPROBATION. 



art 



iogether by motives of interest, but not by feelings of mutual 
respect. If they admire each other's talents, they cannot ap* 
prove of each other's principles and conduct : the thing is in* 
credible, impossible. The mind has no susceptibility of ap- 
proving vice, considered as such ; and, therefore, an unholy- 
brotherhood of beings linked together for the accomplishment 
of some nefarious scheme, has been frequently broken up 
through the mutual suspicions engendered by a feeling of each 
other's utter worthlessness. 

The emotions of which we now speak, contribute to distin- 
guish us, as moral agents, from brutes and inanimate objects* 
which are only capable of being governed by instinct or physi* 
cal power. They are now, however, considered rather physi- 
ologically than ethically, as phenomena of the mind, indicat- 
ing corresponding susceptibilities of mind ; and so adapted to 
give us a fuller and more correct conception of the mind, as a 
spiritual substance or essence. In this sense we may say, in 
defining the mind, that it is that which morally approves and 
disapproves, as well as that it is that which thinks, and feels, 
and judges, &c. 

While some have overlooked the susceptibility of moral 
emotion, us a constituent part of the mental constitution, 
others have denied the existence of moral judgments ; at least 
they have forgotten that a moral emotion necessarily presup- 
poses an exercise of moral judgment, pronouncing upon the 
rectitude or criminality of the action which excites the emotion. 
This appears to me to be the great error, or rather one of the 
great errors, of Dr. Brown on the subject of morals. His doc* 
trine upon this subject is, that the emotions of approbation and 
disapprobation, of which we speak, " are not the result of an 
intellectual comparison of the action with certain rules of pro- 
priety derived from any source whatever," — " that they do not 
even presuppose any such comparison, except that of the ac- 
tion itself and its circumstances,"—" that the rules of propri- 
ety to which we have referred, are not previous to the emo- 
tions, but the emotions to the rules, of which they constitute, 
in truth, the foundation." In short, the Doctor, misled by his 
notions of beauty, supposes that as we do not first pronounce 
an object beautiful, and then feel the emotion of beauty, so we 
do not first pronounce an action right, and then feel the emo- 
tion of moral approbation ; the emotion in both cases takes 
the lead ; and as we call that object beautiful which excites the 
emotion of beauty, so we designate that action right which 
awakens the emotion of moral approbation. 

24* 



278 CLASS I. MORAL APPROBATION, &c. 

This statement exhibits only a part of the errors, as I can- 
not but regard them, which are to be found in that department 
of the Doctor's Lectures which are more properly ethical, yet 
it contains all that it is necessary for me to notice at present. 
I shall have occasion afterwards to examine the necessary con- 
sequence of this doctrine, viz. that virtue is nothing in itself, 
&c. I now simply encounter the position, that no moral judg- 
ment precedes our moral emotions ; and state, in opposition to 
it, that a perception or conception of an action as right or 
wrong, invariably precedes an emotion of approbation or dis- 
approbation. That we have moral judgments — notions of ac- 
tions as virtuous, or the contrary — will scarcely be denied ; 
and that such judgments are presupposed, in our moral emo- 
tions, is manifest from the circumstance, that the latter are uni- 
formly governed, and may be reversed, by the former. Let an 
action be ever so praise-worthy, it excites no feeling of approba- 
tion, if we do not regard it as a right action. And, on the con- 
trary, let it be ever so flagitious, it awakens no feeling of con- 
demnation, if it be not considered an improper action. Perse- 
cution, on the ground of religious opinion, will be allowed to 
be censurable and criminal ; yet the mind of the persecutor 
Saul, did not disapprove either of his own conduct, or of that 
of his companions in iniquity, because he verily thought that 
he ought to do many things contrary to the name of Christ. 
Did not judgment precede and govern feeling in this instance ? 
How can it be doubted, especially as we find, that at a future 
period, when his moral judgment was reversed, his feelings 
also underwent a change ; and that he then so strongly con- 
demned the conduct he had once approved, as to include it in 
the catalogue of his greatest sins, that he had persecuted the 
church of God. 

And how are we to account for the different state of feeling 
with which the same action is contemplated, unless we ascribe 
it to the different views that are taken of its moral character 1 
To say nothing of parricide, infanticide, the offering up of hu- 
man sacrifices — practices abhorred by us, but approved, at 
least not disapproved, by multitudes — how is it to be explained 
that one-half of the inhabitants of this country practice habitu- 
ally, without any self-reproach, certain modes of conduct, 
which the other half cannot witness without powerful feelings 
of disapprobation? Is it not the case that their moral judg- 
ments differ, and that, from this difference, there results a cor- 
responding difference of moral feeling ? And the only way to 
produce harmony of feeling, is to produce harmony of judg- 



THE RESULT OF MORAL JUDGMENTS. 279 

ment. Let us only succeed in lodging a conviction in the 
judgments of those whose conduct we condemn, that it is 
morally wrong ; and, however fatally the heart may be entan- 
gled, the feeling of moral disapprobation will infallibly arise. 

We do not then merely form notions of actions as right or 
wrong, but we approve of the one, and disapprove of the other. 
The mind has an original susceptibility of moral emotion ; but 
this emotion does not arise on the mere contemplation of an 
action ; it follows and is governed by the moral judgment 
which the mind forms of it. Even Dr. Brown himself, in at- 
tempting to account for that diversity, and even contrariety of 
moral emotion, to which I have alluded, is obliged to ascribe 
it to the different view which is formed of the result of the ac- 
tion. There is, on his scheme, an exercise of the intellect — 
a decision of the judgment ; but that decision is, not that the 
action is right or Wrong, but that it is beneficial, or the con- 
trary. Those actions which are conceived, by the individuals 
who contemplate them, to issue in good, excite necessarily, 
without any notion of their rectitude, the emotion of approba- 
tion ; and those whose tendency is to evil, awaken the feeling 
of disapprobation. The notion of rectitude is, he thinks, sub- 
sequent to the emotion, and built upon it. I apprehend this 
statement is at variance with consciousness. We do not first 
feel an action, if I may so speak, to be wrong, and then judge 
it to be wrong. That would be a backward motion of the 
mechanism of the mind, if I may employ such a figure. Nor 
do we, I conceive, in point of fact, judge an action to be bene- 
ficial or injurious ; but we judge it to be right or wrong; and 
the judgment is instantly succeeded by a corresponding emo- 
tion of approbation, or disapprobation. 

The preceding statements, representing a susceptibility of 
moral emotion as forming an essential part of the mental con- 
stitution, are adapted to show the unphilosophical nature of an 
objection which has been brought against the doctrine of mo- 
ral necessity, viz. that, on that scheme, it is impossible to 
render praise or blame to the conduct of men. The obvious 
reply is, that a voluntary agent in the commission of evil must 
be disapproved. It is in vain to alledge that he was constrain- 
ed by the power of motives which had a necessary influence 
upon his mind, to act as he did ; for, whether the allegation 
be true or not, it is easy to reply, that we are at least equally 
constrained by the constitution of our minds to disapprove, and 
condemn him. 

The moralist cannot fail to observe of how much importance 



280 CLASS 1.— LOVE AND HATRED. 

these moral emotions are, as the restrainers and punishers of 
vice, at any rate of openly licentious conduct. Dark as is the 
moral aspect of many parts of the world, how much more dis- 
tressing would be the scene, were there not a restraint, in this 
part of our mental constitution, upon some of the worst pas- 
sions of our nature. Dr. Brown has written with great 
warmth and eloquence on this subject ; but the natural amia- 
bleness of his mind, combined with his excellent moral princi- 
ples, has led him to ascribe too much power to the moral 
guard of which we speak. From the manner in which he 
expresses himself, a careless observer of man might be led to 
suppose that visible immorality is a kind of "raraavis" in 
the world — that the. indignant voice within the bosom, of 
which he speaks, remonstrating against the contemplated 
deed of immorality, in union with the certainty that that voice 
will be re-echoed by the dreadful award of all around him, 
would compel the transgressor, in every instance, to retire 
from the possibility of human observation at least, before he 
permitted the development of his passions, if it did not alto- 
gether prevent his indulgence of them. Such, however, is 
not the fact; and, therefore, while we do rejoice in the degree 
of influence which these emotions possess in preventing the 
prevalence of vice, it becomes us, at the same time, to mourn 
over that deep degeneracy of our race, which, notwithstanding 
the existence of barriers so strong, has yet the power " to de- 
luge the earth with volcanic eruptions of anarchy and crime !" 

LOVE AND HATRED. 

The former of these terms comprehends a great variety of 
emotions, which take different names, according to the objects 
toward which they are directed, or to their different degrees of 
intensity. When the emotion is awakened by our own particu- 
lar interests exclusively, it is called self-love ; when it- is di- 
rected towards mankind generally, it is denominated good- will, 
or benevolence ; when it embraces particular individuals, it 
may be friendship, or patriotism, parental, filial, conjugal, or 
paternal affection. To express those modifications of the af- 
fection which are produced by some of its more strongly marked 
different degrees of intensity, it takes the name of regard, re- 
spect, esteem, veneration, &c. 

The analysis of this emotion presents us, in the opinion of 
Dr. Brown, with two elements ; viz. a vivid delight in the con- 
templation of the object of affection, and a desire of good to 



LOVE AND HATRED. 281 

that object. The latter is the result of the former. It is, how- 
ever, an important remark of this writer, that the delight which 
forms invariably a constituent part of the emotion, admits of 
great variety. " The love which we feel for a near relation 
may not, in our maturer years, be exactly the same emotion 
as that which we feel for a friend ; the love which we feel for 
one relation, or friend, of one character, not exactly the same 
as the love which we feel for another relation, perhaps of the 
same degree of propinquity, or for another friend of a different 
character ; yet if we were to attempt to state these differences in 
words, we might make them a little more obscure, but we could 
not make them more intelligible." They are better known by 
the distinctive phrases — love of parents, friends, country, &c. 
— than by any description of the variety of the feelings them- 
selves ; as the difference between the sweetness of honey and 
that of sugar, is better known by these mere names of the par- 
ticular substances which excite feelings, than by any descrip- 
tion of the difference of the sweetnesses. " Or rather," adds 
Dr. Brown, " in the one way it is capable of being made known 
to those who have ever tasted the two substances ; in the other 
way, no words which human art could employ, if the sub- 
stances themselves are not named, would be able to make 
known the distinctive shades. n 

It follows necessarily, from this analysis of love, that some 
quality must exist, or must be conceived to exist, in the be- 
loved object, which, by virtue of the constitution of the mind, 
is capable of yielding pleasure to it. This quality, then, let it 
be especially observed, is the object of love, or that by which 
the emotion is excited. The emotion is in itself delightful ; it 
is happiness to love ; but we do not love for the sake of the 
pleasure of loving. If that were the case, there would be the 
same inducement to love all the objects by which we are sur- 
rounded, the pleasure of loving being in all cases, when at least 
the emotion is equally intense, the same ; and, therefore, the 
actual direction of our love would be a mere matter of acci- 
dent. Besides, the act of loving must be performed before.we 
can experience the pleasure of the act. Love exists, in the 
order of nature, before the pleasure ; and so cannot be awak- 
ened by the pleasure, unless we admit that the effect may 
sometimes produce the cause. It may also be further stated, 
that, if no pleasure attended the act of loving, we should be 
constrained, by the constitution of our minds, to give our re- 
gard to those qualities which now awaken our affection ; as we 
are constrained to despise the mean and the profligate, though 



282 CLASS I. LOVE AND HATRED. 

no pleasure is experienced in despising. The pleasure of lov- 
ing is not, then, the cause, or object of the affection. 

The emotions of hatred are awakened by the perception of 
any thing which the tendencies of our nature, either mental or 
moral, render evil to us. They do not arise on the occurrence 
of absolute suffering merely, but on the anticipation of suffer- 
ing, or on the prospect of a diminution of that portion of good 
which we enjoy, or wish to possess. In its general nature, the 
emotion of hatred is directly opposite to that of love ; and pre- 
sents, accordingly, to our analysis, a strong feeling of pain on 
the contemplation of an object, and a desire of injury to it. 
It is modified also, like the emotion of love, by the objects 
against which it is directed, as well as by its degree of in- 
tensity. 

The importance of both these classes of emotions must not 
be overlooked. The benevolent affections, as they are pro- 
perly called, contribute largely to the happiness of mankind, 
both by the pleasure which they directly yield to those in whose 
minds they ^are awakened, and by the happiness which they 
diffuse by the actions to which they lead. A benevolent man 
is the producer of happiness to others, and the subject of hap- 
piness himself; for to love is to enjoy, and he only can be 
perfectly miserable who has nothing to love, or who is to [no 
being the object of love. " So consolatory is regard," says 
Dr. Brown, *' in all the agitations of life, except under the hor- 
rors of remorse, that he who has one heart to share his affec- 
tion, though he may still have feelings to which we must con- 
tinue to give the name of sorrow, cannot be miserable ; while 
he who has no heart that would care whether he was suffering 
or enjoying, alive or dead — and who has himself no regard to 
the suffering or enjoyment of a single individual, may be rich, 
indeed, in the external means of happiness, but cannot be rich 
in happiness, which external things may promote, but are as 
little capable of producing, as the incense on the altar of giv- 
ing out its aromatic odors, where there is no warmth to kindle 
it into fragrance."* In harmony with these statements it has 
been said, with inimitable beauty, as well as truth, that heaven 
is perfect love, and hell the perfect want of love. 

JNTor is a susceptibility of the malevolent affections, as they 
are called, though improperly, an unnecessary part of the men- 
tal constitution. They are the defence of happiness against 
the injustice which would otherwise be every moment invading 

* Vol. iii. p. 272. 



I/OVE AND HATRED", 283 

it. The indignation, and abhorrence, which are awakened by 
deeds of lawless violence, add to the force of penal sanctions, 
and guard us against aggressions which no mere statutary 
enactments could entirely prevent. It has been thought, by 
some moralists, inconsistent with the justice and holiness of 
God to suppose, that he has implanted in the mind a suscepti- 
bility of these emotions. The opinion can only have originated 
in a misapprehension of the nature of susceptibility ; " for a 
capability of loathing vice is necessary to moral excellence ; 
without it we should be the very beings whom we were not 
formed capable of abhorring." The existence of such a ca- 
pability renders, doubtless, an improper development of it pos- 
sible — as the power of loving renders it possible to love sin ; 
but He who implanted the susceptibility, is not accountable 
for this sinful development of it. The emotion itself is, as 
we have seen, a strong feeling of pain on the contemplation of 
an object regarded by us as an evil object, in union with a de- 
sire of injury to it. Now it will not be alledged that the pain- 
ful feeling is improper ; and it is equally manifest, that the ac- 
companying desire of injury is not so per se. I may desire 
evil to an individual, and even inflict evil upon him, with the 
most virtuous and benevolent intention. The moral character 
of the desire depends upon the intention. If, indeed, we de- 
sire evil to an individual merely as evil, how much soever he 
may deserve it — if we do not desire it as a means of some 
more ultimate good, our desire is then fitly characterized by 
the terms malice, envy, &c. and must be given up to condem- 
nation, as being a sinful development of a susceptibility which 
is not morally evil per se. There is, doubtless, great danger 
of this improper development ; and all who value the approba- 
tion of conscience, must be on their guard here : but when we 
analyze the feeling, and consider what is its ultimate object, 
we shall find that the " term malevolent is far from being the 
most appropriate that might be employed to express it, and 
that it is only in a qualified sense that it can at all be applied. 
Is its object the communication of suffering to a sensitive be- 
ing, or the punishment of injustice and cruelty ?" (or more ul- 
timately, we may add, the reformation of the unjust and cruel 
man,) " a little reflection will convince us, that the latter was 
its original and proper object."* 

Thus the great Creator of the mind has formed it capable 
both of love and hatred ; but " he has not formed it to have 

* Dewar's Moral Philosophy, Vol. i. pp. 394-5. 



284 CLASS I. SYMPATHY. 

equal enjoyment in both." And in this circumstance we per- 
ceive the strongest proof of his goodness. Love aims at pour- 
ing enjoyment upon all around, — hatred at inflicting suffering ; 
now it is happiness to love, and misery to hate. Can this be 
accident 1 Is it possible to doubt that He who implanted in 
the mind all its susceptibilities, designed the happiness of his 
creatures ? 

SYMPATHY. 

The mind, it is supposed, possesses a power of so entering 
into the circumstances of others, as to partake of their feel- 
ings. And if these words are not very strictly interpreted, 
there can be no doubt that we possess such a power. " With- 
out any direct cause of pain we catch pain," in the emphatic 
language of Dr. Brown, " as it were, by a sort of contagious 
sensibility, from the mere violence of another's anguish." Nor 
is it merely with pain that we sympathize ; pleasure is also in 
fectious, though perhaps not to the same degree. This has 
indeed, been denied by some philosophers, who, misled by the 
etymology of the word, tell us that the proper idea of sympa- 
thy is that of suffering with another. No candid observer of 
facts, however, can doubt, it is presumed, that we rejoice with 
them that rejoice, as well as weep with them that weep. 
" There is a charm in general gladness that steals upon us 
without our perceiving it ; and if we have no cause of sorrow, 
it is sufficient for our momentary comfort, that we be in the 
company of the happy." 

It is generally imagined, however, that the mind possesses 
a stronger comparative tendency to participate in the sad than 
in the gay emotions of those around us ; and this tendency is 
by some supposed to be the result of a process of reasoning. 
" It arises," we are told, " in a great measure from the con- 
ception that the state of suffering has stronger claims upon our 
fellow-feeling than a state of joy. The happy man, we are apt 
to imagine, is happy enough without us ; but the suffering man 
needs our commiseration and help. It must be admitted, also," 
the same writer proceeds, " that self-love at times affects our 
s*ympathy. We form a comparison, in the case of distress, 
which makes us sensible of the weakness of the individual, of 
his dependence upon ourselves, and of his need of help. On 
this ground, it is conceived that there will afterwards be an ob- 
ligation to be grateful to us, arising out of the action of the 
sympathetic feeling ; but in the case of joy, there is an inver- 









SYMPATHY. 285 

sion of this order. The individual whose happiness makes us 
happy, is not considered as owing any obligation to us for our 
sympathy. The obligation, on the contrary, seems to lie on the 
other side ; and it is easy to conceive that we may be unwill- 
ing to incur this obligation." 

It is impossible to refuse to the preceding statement the praise 
of ingenuity: yet it is, I think, radically defective. The consi- 
derations mentioned by this writer may set in motion the handy 
but they will not give the heart of sympathy ; — they do not ex- 
hibit the source of the alledged superior feeling in the case of 
distress ; they merely account for the ready help that is afford- 
ed. If it be a fact that we more readily and powerfully sympa- 
thize with sorrow than with joy, it seems impossible to account 
for this fact — on the admission of a distinct susceptibility of 
sympathy — -without supposing that the principle is naturally 
more vigorous in the one case than in the other. I am, how- 
ever, much disposed to regard it as an unsupported assump- 
tion, that there is in the mind a stronger tendency to sympa- 
thize with sorrow than joy. The truth of the case will, perhaps, 
be found to be, that every one enters more readily into that 
feeling, whether it be sorrow or joy, which has been most pre- 
valent in his own mind. 

It is not, however, certain that sympathy in the general feel- 
ings of others, is the result of a distinct susceptibility of mind. 
It may be possible, perhaps, to trace all its phenomena to ano- 
ther law of the mind. Even Dr. Brown, who maintains, though 
with some hesitation, that the mind possesses an original ten- 
dency to sympathy, admits that many of its phenomena may 
be traced to suggestion. " It may be considered," he says, 
" as a necessary consequence of the laws of suggestion, that 
the sight of any of the symbols of internal feeling should recall 
to us the feeling itself, in the same way as a portrait, or rather, 
as the alphabetic name of our friend recalls to us the concep- 
tion of our friend himself. Some faint and shadowy sadness 
we undoubtedly should feel, therefore, when the external signs 
of sadness were before us ; some greater cheerfulness, on the 
appearance of cheerfulness in others, even though we had no 
peculiar susceptibility of sympathizing emotions, distinct from 
the mere general tendencies of suggestion." Now, if some of 
the phenomena of sympathy must, as Dr. Brown acknow- 
ledges, be resolved into suggestion, that fact lays a strong 
ground of probability that all may be thus resolved. And in 
support of this sentiment several powerful arguments may be 
adduced. We have the feelings of sympathy, when there is no 

25 



286 CLASS I. — SYMFATIir. 

object of sympathy. We shudder, as if sympathizing, but shud- 
der at a mere thought, as when under the influence of some 
lively conception of danger, which will produce similar invo- 
luntary muscular movements with the actual peril. Our sym- 
pathetic feelings are found to he most lively, ivken the circum- 
stances of the individual ivho attracts our sympathy have been 
most similar to our oivn. The man who has encountered and 
escaped the dangers of a storm, feels most acutely when the 
vessel, in the distance, appears with her signals of distress, and 
to which no assistance can be rendered. With the mother be- 
reft of her first born, none will sympathize so tenderly as 
those who have sustained a similar bereavement. It is not easy 
to explain this on the assumption, that sympathy is an original 
susceptibility given to enable us to enter into the feelings of 
others. But if, on the other hand, it be the result of suggestion, 
it is manifest that the tears and anguish of the bereft mother, 
will recall very powerfully to the mind of her friend, the hour 
and the poignancy of her own anguish ; i. e. her sympathy will 
be greater than that of others. Tlie analysis, also, of sympathy; 
tends, I apprehend, to show that it is not the residt of an origi- 
nal susceptibility. Dr. Cogan, indeed, seems to consider it as 
simply the participation of the feelings of others; the analysis 
of Dr. Brown is, however, more correct. Sympathy in sorrow 
consists, according to his statements, of two successive states 
of mind— the feeling of the sorrow of others — and the desire 
of relieving it. The first element of this complex feeling is here? 
I apprehend, very unhappily described. What is meant by the 
feeling of the sorrow of others ? We may, indeed, feel sorrow 
in company with others ; our sorrowful feelings may resemble 
theirs ; but it is only in a figurative sense that we can be said 
to feel their sorrows. These arise from causes which do not 
affect us. The state of their minds cannot become ours ; it is 
incapable of transference. Nothing more can with truth be 
said than that, in sympathy, we are the subjects of feelings 
which resemble those of our friends ; and the general laws of 
suggestion sufficiently account for their existence. Suggestion 
recalls past feelings, as well as past ideas, or conceptions. 
The indications of grief which we witness, recall or renew the 
grief we have formerly experienced ; so that the pain we feel 
in sympathy is our own pain, it cannot possibly be the pain of 
others ; and the susceptibility of sympathy, instead of being 
distinct and original, may be nothing more than the readiness 
with which the general principle of suggestion recalls our past 
feelings of pleasure or of pain, when we observe the external 



SYMPATHY. 287 

symbols of either in others. If this readiness cannot be resolv- 
ed into any of the secondary laws of suggestion, it will follow 
that though, in one sense, sympathy is not original — inasmuch 
■as it is not distinct from the general principle of suggestion ; 
yet that, in another sense, it is original — inasmuch as a natural 
and an especial tendency has been given to the general prin- 
ciple, to recall our own joys and sorrows, when we witness the 
joys and sorrows of others. I cannot but think, however, that 
the peculiar interest which all men attach to every thing that 
concerns themselves, will aceount for this particular develop- 
ment of the general principle of suggestion. 

If the preceding statements be correct, they evince the truth 
of a remark of Dr. Brown, that *' there is nothing peculiar in 
the mere grief which constitutes one of the elements of sym- 
pathy." It cannot be peculiar, because it is a renewal of the 
grief which we may have experienced in numberless instances 
before, and which is more readily recalled, according to the 
■ordinary laws of association, after every additional instance of 
its recurrence ; a circumstance which explains the fact, that 
those who have suffered much, are the most addicted to sym- 
pathy. And if there be nothing peculiar in the grief, there is 
surely nothing more peculiar in the desire which constitutes 
one of the elements of sympathy ; so that the general suscep- 
tibilities of experiencing grief and desire, will account for the 
phenomena of sympathy, without calling in the aid of a third 
original principle. 

They explain also another assertion made by Dr. Brown, 
while they correct a mistake into which he appears to have 
fallen. ** Sympathy is not," he says, " a modification of love ;" 
and in support of this statement he appeals to the well-known 
and conclusive fact, that we sympathize with an individual in 
pain, whom we regard not with love, but positive dislike and 
oven abhorrence. There is nothing mysterious in this, on the 
principles just stated. The symptoms of pain will recall our own 
former sufferings by the common laws of association, whatever 
be the character of the sufferer. I do not see how our love, or 
our hatred, can affect the operation of the principle of sugges- 
tion. It may be fairly doubted, I think, whether what we call 
sympathy is greater in the case of a suffering friend, than it 
would have been in the case of an enemy. Our affliction is 
doubtless greater, because other painful ingredients are added 
to it. There is more than sympathy in our cup of sorrow. 
Sympathy does not at all depend upon love. It should not be 
spoken of as an emotion which arises out of it — a statement 



288 CLASS I. SYMPATHY. 

which Dr. Brown, with singular self-inconsistency, has made ; 
for, almost in the next sentence, he tells us " that there is often 
sympathy when there is no love, but positive abhorrence!" 
How then can it arise from love ? 

The same writer thus beautifully remarks upon this law of 
sympathy. " If compassion were to arise only after we had 
ascertained the moral character of the sufferer, and weighed 
all the consequences of good and evil which might result to 
society from the relief which it is in our power to offer, who 
would rush to the preservation of the drowning mariner, to the 
succor of the wounded, to the aid of him who calls for help 
against the ruffians who are assailing him ? Our powers of giv- 
ing assistance have been better accommodated to the neces- 
sities which may be relieved by them. By the principle of com- 
passion within us, we are benefactors almost without willing 
it; — we have already done the deed, when, if deliberation had 
been necessary as a previous step, we should not have pro- 
ceeded far in the calculation which was to determine, by a due 
equipoise of opposite circumstances, the propriety of the re- 
lief."* 

It would be unpardonable to omit directing the particular 
attention of the reader to that display of divine goodness which 
the emotions of sympathy exhibit. " Even in the case of our 
happier feelings," says Dr. Brown, "it is not a slight advantage 
that nature has made the sight of joy productive of joy to him 
who merely beholds it. Men are to mingle in society ; and 
they bring into society affections of mind that are almost in- 
finitely various ; if these internal diversities of feeling were to 
continue as they are, what delight would society afford ? The 
opposition would render the company of each a burden to the 
other. The gay would fly from the sullen gloom of the melan- 
choly ; the melancholy would shrink from a mirth which they 
could not possibly partake. But the same power which formed 
this beautiful system of the universe out of chaos, reduces to 
equal regularity and beauty this and every other confusion of 
the moral world. By the mere principle of sympathy, all the 
discord in the social feelings becomes accordant. The sad 
unconsciously become gay ; the gay are softened into a joy 
that has less perhaps of mirth, but not less of delight ; and 
though there is still a diversity of cheerfulness, all is cheerful- 
ness." " How much more admirable, however, is the provi- 
dence of the Creator's bounty, in that instant diffusion to others 

* Vol. iii. p. 290. 



"PRIDE AND HUMILITY. 28$ 

of the grief which is felt only by one, that makes the relief 
of this suffering, not a duty merely, which we coldly perform, 
but a icant, which is almost like the necessity of some moral 
appetite. To every individual there is thus secured the aid of 
multitudes, to whom he had probably been formerly an object 
of indifference, if not of hatred."* 



. PRIDE AND HUMILITY. 

Pride is said, by Dr. Cogan, to "be " that exalted idea of our 
state, qualifications, and attainments, &c. which exceeds the 
boundaries of justice, and induces us to look down upon our 
supposed inferiors with some degree of unmerited contempt." 
This definition of pride excludes it from the class of emotions 
altogether ; it exhibits it as an intellectual estimate of our- 
selves ; as a mistaken judgment, requiring, of course, for its 
existence, no distinct and original susceptibility of mind. And 
this definition is the more objectionable, because humility, 
which is certainly the direct opposite of pride, is permitted to 
remain in the class of emotions. It is said to be not too low 
an idea of our state, &c. &c. but a degree of habitual sorrow 
and painful apprehension, in consequence of this estimate 
of our condition and character. 

There can be no reasonable doubt, I think, that the terms 
pride and humility denote states of mind which belong, partly 
at least, to the order of feelings. They involve, doubtless, 
an intellectual estimate of our attainments ; but, properly 
speaking, they denote " the vivid feelings of joy or sadness, 
which attend the contemplation of ourselve's, when we regard 
our superiority or inferiority, in any qualities of mind or body, 
or in the external circumstances in which we may be placed." 
The emotion, then, involved in pride is not essentially immo- 
ral ; and the recollection of this statement will deliver us from 
certain difficulties, of a moral aspect, with which some other 
accounts are embarrassed. If it be lawful to desire high at- 
tainments in intellectual and moral excellence, it must be 
lawful to rejoice when we have been enabled to make them. 
Besides, the mind has been formed to rejoice in such circum- 
stances, and, therefore, the feeling of satisfaction cannot be 
evil, per se. Dr. Brown states that the moral turpitude which 
we generally, and, it must be granted, justly attach to pride, 
<loes not lie in the pleasure of excellence, as a mere direct 

* Vol. iii. p. 291, 
25* 



290 CLASS I. — PRIDE AND HUMILITY. 

emotion, but in those ill-ordered affections which may have 
led us to the pursuit of excellence that is unworthy of our 
desire, or in the vanity and haughtiness which may spring out 
of it. " The feeling of our excellence," says he, " may give 
rise directly, or indirectly, to various other affections of mind. 
It may lead us to impress others, as much as possible, with 
our superiority, — which we may do in two ways, by presenting 
to them, at every moment, some proofs of our advantages, 
mental, bodily, or in the gifts of fortune ; or, by bringing to 
their minds directly their inferiority, by the scorn with which 
we treat them. The former of these modes of conduct is 
what is commonly termed vanity ; the latter, haughtiness ; but 
both, though they may arise from our mere comparison of our- 
selves and others, and our consequent feeling of superiority, 
are the results of pride, not pride itself." The emotion of 
gladness which arises from the conscious attainment of high 
degrees of excellence, takes its moral character from the na- 
ture of the excellence in which superiority had been desired. 

The term pride is sometimes used, notlo mark this elemen- 
tary emotion, but a prevalent disposition of mind to discover 
superiority in itself, where it does not exist ; and to dwell on 
the contemplation of the superiority where it does exist, with 
a humbling disdain, perhaps, of those that are inferior. In this 
sense, pride " is unquestionably a vice as degrading to the 
mind of an individual, as it is offensive to that great Being 
who has formed the superior and the inferior for mutual offices 
of benevolence ; and who often compensates, by excellencies 
that are unknown to the world, the more glaring disparity in 
qualities which the world is quicker in discerning." 

This prevalent disposition in any mind to discover superiori- 
ty in itself, is generally accompanied by a tendency to take a 
low standard of comparison. Let us conceive of two persons 
who have made an equal degree of intellectual progress ; one 
compares himself with individuals before him, and the other, 
with those who are behind him, in the march of general im- 
provement ; the one will probably be proud, the other humble. 
Now, whether the adoption of different standards be regarded 
as the cause, or the consequence of pride, it cannot be doubted 
that an habitual tendency to seek a high standard of compari- 
son is the most excellent and noble state of mind. They, 
measuring themselves by themselves, and comparing them- 
selves among themselves, are not wise." " An habitual tenden- 
cy to look beneath, rather than above," says Dr. Brown, " is 
the prevailing tendency of mind, which we call pride; while a 



ANGER. 291 

disposition to look above rather than below, and to feel an in- 
feriority, therefore, which others do not perceive, is the charac- 
ter which is denominated humility. Is it false then, or extrava- 
gant, to say that humility is truly the nobler ; and that pride, 
which delights in the contemplation of the abject things beneath, 
is truly in itself more abject than that meekness of heart which 
is humble because it has greater objects, and which looks with 
reverence to the excellence that is above it, because it is form- 
ed with a capacity of feeling all the worth of that excellence 
which it reveres ?"* 



Class II. 

Retrospective Emotions ; comprehending those which relate to 
Objects as past 

The conception of some object of former pleasure or pain, 
is essentia] to the complex feeling denoted by these emotions; 
and, on that account, they are denominated Retrospective. In 
this class are included anger, gratitude, regret, gladness, re- 
morse, and self-approbation. Dr. Brown admits a subdivision 
here, founded apparently on the circumstance, for he does not 
well explain his meaning, that other individuals, personally 
considered, are the direct objects of anger and gratitude, but 
not of regret, &c. &c. 

ANGER,"" 

Is a feeling of displeasure excited by any injury which is 
either done or intended to ourselves, or to others. It involves 
in it, or rather it presupposes, a conception of the injury, and it 
may be followed by a desire of retaliation ; but, strictly speak- 
ing, anger is the emotion of displeasure itself, exclusive both 
of its cause and its consequences. 

We have a considerable variety of names to mark the vari- 
ous modifications of anger, some of which are intended appa- 
rently to exhibit different degrees of the feeling of displeasure 
itself — as indignation, anger, wrath, rage, &c. ; and others, to 
denote different degrees and modifications of the desire of re- 
taliation with which, as we have said, it is generally accompa- 
nied, — as resentment, rancor, revenge, &c. 

* Vol. iii. p. 314. 



292 CLASS II. — ANGER. 

This statement of the nature of anger will assist us in dis- 
posing of the question which has been agitated with reference 
to the moral character of this emotion. Some regard it as evil 
per se. But if so, it cannot result from an original susceptibility ; 
and to suppose that it does not, is absurd. If the mind had not 
been formed to be angry, in certain circumstances, how could 
anger at any time exist ? Besides, if anger were in itself sin- 
ful, how could Jehovah be represented, even in a figurative 
sense, as the subject of it 1 How could He who was separate 
from sin, have looked upon men with anger ? How could we 
be exhorted to be angry, and sin not? These considerations 
prove that anger is not evil per se ; and, if it be a mere emotion 
of displeasure on the infliction of any evil upon us, how can[it be 
conceived that an essentially immoral character attaches to it 1 
Anger becomes sinful, doubtless, when it springs up without 
sufficient cause, or when it rises to excess, or when it con- 
tinues too long ; — all of which, it must be conceded, too fre- 
quently takes place, in consequence of the moral perversity of 
our nature ; — but the emotion of displeasure itself is not more 
essentially evil 'than the affection of love, which may arise im- 
properly as well as anger. And though the moral character of 
the accompanying desire of retaliation is far more questionable, 
and must, in some of its modifications, be given up to un- 
mingled reprobation, I can scarcely venture to pronounce even 
this evil per se. Man, in consequence of depravity, is an ene- 
my to man. It seems accordingly necessary that there should 
be a principle in his mental constitution, to operate as a moral 
restraint upon his disposition to violence and outrage. This 
moral guard is the desire of retaliation which the evil-doer 
awakens against himself. The mere emotion of displeasure 
might be insufficient for the purpose. The aggressor might 
not be repressed by a fire which blazed for a moment, and 
then expired. Resentment, which secures the bringing of the 
transgressor to punishment, must be added to displeasure ; and 
both combined operate powerfully " to save from guilt, and 
the consequences of guilt, the individual who might otherwise 
have dared to be unjust, and the individual who would have 
suffered from the unjust invasion." 

It is necessary to observe here, however, that to reach the 
sublime height of Christian morality, this natural desire of re- 
taliation (for I admit that the mind was formed capable of ex- 
periencing it) must not be cherished for its own sake ; it must 
be subordinated to the ultimate design of preventing the evil 
which it punishes. It should also be further observed, that 



GRATITUDE. 293 

though anger and even resentment, or a desire of retaliation* 
may not be evil per se, they are in great danger of becoming 
so. Dr. Brown has given an admirable statement of the cases 
in which the former must be regarded as improper. The fol- 
lowing is a bare abstract of his remarks. 

1st, When it arises too soon — without reflection — when the 
injury which awakens it is only apparent, and was designed to 
do good. The disposition which becomes too speedily angry, 
we call a passionate disposition. 

2dly, When it is disproportionate to the offence. An indi- 
vidual feels that he is injured, it may be in an inconsiderable 
degree ; but, without inquiry or thought, he pours out at once 
all his fury upon the offender. To guard against this, we should 
call in the aid of reflection. 

3dly, When it is transferred from the guilty to the innocent, 
as in the case of a fretful disposition. 

4thly, When it is too long protracted. The disposition is 
said, in that case, to be revengeful — a disposition of which it 
is difficult to say whether the guilt or the deformity be the 
greater. 

If a theological difficulty should occur to any of my readers, 
founded on the consideration that man was not designed by 
his Maker to be the foe of man, and so did not need that moral 
guard against aggression and violence of which we have been 
speaking, I would remind them that God, who sees the end 
from the beginning, may have been led to give to him a men- 
tal constitution, which was adapted to what he foreknew would 
become his permanent and general condition. 

GRATITUDE. 

Gratitude, says Dr. Cogan, " is a pleasant affection excited 
by a lively sense of benefits received, or intended ;" it is in- 
deed a modification of the emotion of love. The love of grati- 
tude is kindled by kindness ; and hence we are said to "love 
God, because he first loved us." Other species of love are 
excited, it is supposed, by some excellence, or imagined ex- 
cellence, which resides habitually in the object of affection ; 
and hence it has been usual to draw a line of distinction be- 
tween the love of gratitude and the love of complacency. 
There may, however, be less difference between them than is 
commonly imagined. Dr. Cogan remarks, very justly, as it 
appears to me, " that gratitude is mostly connected with an im- 
pressive sense of the amiable disposition of the person by whom 



294 CLASS II. — GRATITUDE. 

the benefit is conferred, and that it immediately produces a 
personal affection for him."* Now, if this be the case, the ex- 
citing cause of gratitude maybe the "amiable disposition" 
from whence it is conceived, at least, that the streams of kind- 
ness flow ; and this is an excellence of a moral kind. The ob- 
ject of gratitude is not the gift, but the giver. It involves, doubt- 
less, value of the gifi ; since, when we receive nothing which 
is felt by us to be a good, there is no display of kindness, and 
nothing, of course, to excite gratitude ; but gratitude, properly 
so called, is love to the donor, and not love to the bounty con- 
ferred by him, or a miser might be one of the most grateful 
beings in the world. It may be, in short, love to that benevo- 
lence which prompted the gift. In support of the preceding 
statements, many reasons may be assigned. 

First, a hard-hearted and vindictive man is seldom so for- 
tunate, though he may scatter with profusion the gifts of his 
bounty all around him, as to awaken in those who receive them 
the feeling of gratitude. 

Secondly, where that feeling does arise, it is accompanied 
with a conviction that, notwithstanding his rough exterior, he 
possesses more real kindness than is usually imagined. To 
others he may appear a compound of every thing that is detest- 
able ; but the grateful man sees in him a redeeming spark of 
benevolence. 

Thirdly, the benefits we receive awaken no gratitude if they 
are conceived to flow from any other source than kindness. 
The bestowment of a princely fortune upon us, by an indivi- 
dual who manifestly cared neither for our joys nor our sorrows, 
and evidently aimed only at gaining a reputation for splendid 
liberality, would fail to touch our hearts. We feel no gratitude 
to the advocate who saves our property, nor to the physician 
who saves our lives, unless we conceive that some feelings of 
kindness and of concern for us blend with a sense of profes- 
sional obligation, and prompt, in some degree, the exertion of 
their skill. 

Fourthly, the smallest amount of benefit will awaken the 
liveliest feelings of gratitude, when it is an unequivocal mani- 
festation of a benevolent temper, and an affectionate interest 
in our welfare. How should this be the case if the love of gra- 
titude were excited by the gift, and not by a conception of the 
amiable qualities which prompted its communication 1 I am 
well aware that the most powerful feelings of gratitude are ge- 

* P. 150. 



REGRET AND GLADNESS. 295 

nerally awakened by splendid donations, and by frequently re- 
peated acts of kindness; but this may result from the circum- 
stance that they are viewed as more unequivocal and striking 
proofs of that amiableness of disposition, which, as I am now 
endeavoring to show, is the exciting cause of gratitude ; and 
this statement explains the fact mentioned by Cogan, that 
M when the affection operates according to the natural course 
of influence, it will be correspondent to the importance of the 
good obtained — the distance in station between the recipient 
and his benefactor — the smallness of his claims — perhaps the 
consciousness of deserving very different treatment." Hence, 
we may add, the warmth of gratitude which the Christian ma- 
nifests to the Giver of all good. 

REGRET AND GLADNESS. 

The affections which bear these names are said, by Dr. 
Brown, to be " the emotions with which we look back on past 
events, as mere events of advantage or disadvantage to us, 
without including any notion of our own moral propriety or im- 
propriety of conduct." It might have been better, perhaps, if 
the Doctor had said " to us," and to others ; because we re- 
gret the evils which befall our friends, and are glad to receive 
intelligence of their prosperity. In this respect there is a broad 
line of distinction between this and the following pair of emo- 
tions. We may regret the conduct of our friends — we may dis- 
approve of it, but we never suffer remorse on account of it ; 
our consciences only accuse or excuse ourselves. 

In regret and gladness, the simple emotion of pleasure and 
of pain, which constitutes one of their elements, is combined 
with a conception of its cause. In this, and in this only, as 
we have formerly seen, do they differ from emotions which 
were considered in the former class. We may " be melan- 
choly or cheerful without knowing why ;" on the contrary, the 
cause of our regret or gladness it is always possible to spe- 
cify. That cause must be a past event ; and the retrospective 
reference is so important a part of the complex whole, that the 
state of mind which involves this reference may admit, if not 
require, a different classification. 

Few events are productive of unmixed evil or good ; by far 
the greater number are the source of both. It is accordingly 
manifest, that the emotions they excite will correspond with 
the view which an individual takes of them. If the evil merely 
be contemplated, regret will arise ; if the good exclusively. 



296 CLASS II. REMORSE, Sic. 

gladness will be awakened ; if both be contemplated, the two 
emotions will be excited, each modifying the other. Regret 
and gladness do not then depend upon the nature of events 
merely, but also upon the tendency of the mind to dwell, as 
we say in familiar language, on the dark or the bright side of 
things. There are individuals whom nothing can permanently 
depress; there are others whom nothing can permanently 
cheer. In the former, we find an habitual desire to trace the 
favorable consequences of events ; and this desire, as Dr. 
Brown beautifully and philosophically explains it, " influences 
the train of our suggestions," (as our other desires lead to the 
suggestion of images accordant with them ;) " it calls up those 
results which may minister to our enjoyment or our benefit ;" 
and thus the very cup of sorrow itself is drained of half its 
bitterness. 

The preceding statement evinces the importance, in a phi- 
losophical point of view, of that confidence in the Divine wis- 
dom and goodness which the Gospel requires us to display. 
It powerfully tends to induce that habit of mind to trace the 
favorable consequences of events which, as we have just seen, 
is so eminently desirable ; " which is," indeed, as Dr. Brown 
well says, " almost the same thing to us as if adverse had been 
transformed into fortunate and prosperous events." Thus it 
enables us in some measure to walk by sight as well as by 
faith. 

REMORSE AND SELF-AI>PROBATION. 

Remorse is that dreadful feeling of self-accusation and con- 
demnation which arises on the retrospect of our guilt. It is 
combined with, or pre-supposes a perception of criminality ; 
and, consequently, a knowledge of the standard by which ac- 
tions are weighed ; but remorse itself is, properly speaking, the 
vivid feeling of regret, and self-condemnation, which is conse- 
quent upon this inteyectual state of mind. 

The opposite of this emotion, for which our language does 
not supply us with an unexceptionable name, " is the delight- 
ful feeling of self-approbation, which arises on the retrospect 
of innocence and virtue." The scriptural exhortation, to 
" keep a conscience void of offence," decidedly proves both 
that the human mind is capable, physically speaking, of ex- 
periencing the emotion, and that the state of mind which it 
denotes may be habitually attained, to a certain degree at 
least, by great care and watchfulness. 



REMORSE AND SELF-APPROBATION. 297 

Some writers consider the emotions of which we are now 
speaking, and which we may denominate moral regret and 
moral gladness, as being, in truth, the feelings of moral ap- 
probation and disapprobation, already considered — modified 
by the circumstance that the conduct approved or condemned 
is our own. Dr. Brown more correctly, as it appears to me, 
distinguishes them. " The emotions," says he, " with which 
we regard the virtues and vices of others, are very different 
from those with which we regard the same vices and virtues 
as our own. There is the distinctive moral feeling, indeed, 
in both cases, whether the generous sacrifice, or the malignant 
atrocity which we consider, be the deed of another, or of our own 
heroic kindness or guilty passion ; but, in the one case, there 
is something far more than mere approbation, however pleas- 
ing, or mere disapprobation, however disagreeable. There 
is the dreadful moral regret, arising from the certainty that 
we have rendered ourselves unworthy of the love of men and 
the approbation of God."* His description of the counter- 
part of this moral regret it is unnecessary to transcribe. It is 
further manifest to me, also, that moral regret is essentially 
different both from mere regret and moral disapprobation, from 
the fact that, how dear soever the offender may be to us, and 
with whatever bitterness of feeling we may contemplate his 
misconduct, there does not arise any thing like the feeling of 
remorse. 

The susceptibility of experiencing the emotions we are now 
considering constitutes, I apprehend, what is usually called 
the power of conscience. Some, indeed, regard conscience 
as a modification of the faculty of judgment, as it is ordinarily 
denominated, or rather, perhaps, as the judgment exercised in 
pronouncing upon the moral character of actions. This ap- 
pears to me a very obvious mistake. The operations of con- 
science are confined to ourselves — the faculty of judgment in- 
cludes others within the range of its decisions. My judgment 
pronounces the conduct of my friend to be wrong, but it cannot 
be said that my conscience condemns him. The doctrine also, 
now opposed, loses sight of the distinct offices of judgment 
and conscience. Judgment is the jury which brings in the 
verdict of guilty ; conscience is the executioner, who strikes 
the avenging blow. 

There are others who regard conscience as an internal 
sense, which decides upon the moral character of actions as 

* Vol. iii. p. 534. 
26 



298 CLASS It. — REMORSE, &e. 

the eye discriminates colors. But, if that were the case, how 
could the decisions of conscience, (as they are called,) with 
regard to the moral propriety of actions, be reversed, as they 
frequently are, by the mere illumination of the understanding ? 
When did any accession of knowledge cause the color scarlet 
to appear green r or green scarlet ? Besides? the notion of con- 
science as a sense, which decides on the morality of actions,, 
is open to the objection referred to above ; viz. that the office 
of conscience is not to pronounce an action right or wrong ; 
but, if I may so speak, to reward it in the one case, and to 
punish it. in the other. 

It is better, therefore, to consider conscience as the suscep- 
tibility of experiencing those emotions of approbation, or disap- 
probation and condemnation, which are awakened by a retro- 
spect of the moral demerit, or the moral excellence, of our 
own conduct. The operation of conscience is, in all cases T 
subsequent, in the order of nature at least, to a conviction of 
demerit,, or the contrary. By an original law of the mind, self- 
approbation, or self-condemnation, arises as an individual con- 
ceives himself innocent or guilty, whether that conviction be 
well or ill founded. The approval of conscience does not, 
then, afford certain evidence that our conduct has been con- 
sistent with true rectitude ; the disapprobation of conscience 
is not infallible proof that our conduct has been contrary to it. 
The conscience of Paul applauded him while persecuting the 
church of God. The consciences of some of the primitive 
Christians condemned them while eating " meats which had 
been sacrificed to idols ;" though there was no moral evil in 
the latter case, and flagrant iniquity in the former. 

The view just given of the nature of conscience is free, it is 
imagined, from the objections which are urged against the 
common statements in regard to it. It does not identify it with 
the judgment, nor does it render it independent of the judg- 
ment. It accounts for the diversity of its operations, and it 
confines its influence to ourselves.* 

Dr. Brown presents us with some admirable remarks illus- 
trative of the manner in which individuals, whose moral prin- 

* This part of my manuscript was prepared before I was fortunate 
enough to see the account which is given of the nature of conscience by 
a very highly esteemed friend, the Rev. Dr. Wardlaw, in his late excel- 
lent work on the slate of the heathen. I felt that it was due to the ac- 
knowledged talents of that writer to reconsider the statements given 
above. With the general principles of that admirable little work I most 
cordially concur ; but on the particular point to which this note refers I 
did not see cause to alter my opinion. 



CLASS III. — DESIRES AND FEARS. 299 

eiples were once correct, become involved in guilt and re- 
morse, before they have any suspicion of danger. They would 
repel, perhaps, any temptation to fraud or injustice ; but what 
is called social pleasure presents a different aspect. It comes 
in a very alluring shape to all whose minds are not armed 
against its seductions by the higher enjoyments which religion 
affords, while that shape appears scarcely even questionable. 
But pleasure once made the object of pursuit, soon becomes 
the business of life. It hurries into dissipation and vice; and 
the individual who,, on the commencement of his career, saw 
no images save those of social enjoyment, may-, in after life, 
have to retrace years heedlessly and uselessly passed, with the 
astonishment, though not with the comfort, of one who looks 
hack on some frightful dream, and who scarcely knows whe- 
ther he is awake. 

The value of the blessing denoted by the words, " a good 
conscience," is inexpressibly great. Dr. Brown says, it is the 
only object of desire that is truly universal:; and eertain it is, 
that though depraved propensities may invest pleasure with at- 
tractions so alluring as to induce individuals to purchase them 
even at the expense of rousing the monitor within, yet all men 
dread his expostulations — all would gladly have the approba- 
tion of conscience, though all have not the principle and forti- 
tude to do what is necessary to secure it. 



Class III. 

Prospective Emotions., comprehending those which relate te 
Objects as future. 

The two classes of emotions denoted by the words Desires 
and Fears, include all the feelings of the kind we are about to 
consider. " They are the most important of all our emotions, 
from their direct influence on action, which our other feelings 
influence only indirectly through the medium ©f them." 

u Desire," says Mr. Locke, u is the uneasiness a man feels 
in himself upon the absence of any thing whose present enjoy- 
ment carries the idea of good in it." This definition appears 
to me scarcely correct. The uneasy sensation, of which Locke 
speaks, is rather that which precedes desire, than desire itself. 
The mere destitution of good will produce uneasiness, but not 
desire, unless there be some knowledge of the cause of the un- 
easiness. The emotion of desire itself is a feeling of pleasure* 



300 CLASS III. DESIRES AND FEARS. 



not of pain. Dr. Brown has not attempted to define the words, 
desire and fear ; but he has stated all that is necessary to be said, 
and perhaps all that can be said upon the subject. " Our de- 
sires arise from the prospect of what is agreeable in itself, or 
from the prospect of relief from what is disagreeable. Our 
fears arise from the prospect of what is disagreeable in itself, 
and from the prospect of the loss of what is in itself agreeable." 
If, then, our desires are excited by the prospect of that which 
is conceived to be good, and our fears by what is deemed evil, 
where is the propriety of the dissertation into which he imme- 
diately enters, to show that what he calls the object of our de- 
sires and fears may be the same ; so that it is unnecessary to 
consider them separately ? What does he intend by the object 
of desire and fear ? If by that term he meant that which excites 
the emotions, it is manifest that the object of desire and fear 
is not alike ; in the one case it is good, in the other evil. If it 
be meant that the same being or circumstance may produce 
either desire or fear, or both, there can be no doubt of the cor- 
rectness of the statement ; but as this being or circumstance 
must be contemplated in different lights, when both emotions 
are awakened, the thing feared and desired, or the object of the 
desire and fear, is different. Let us examine his own illustra- 
tion : " We hope that we shall attain to a situation of which 
we are ambitious ; we fear that we shall not attain to it. We 
fear that some misfortune, which seems to threaten us, may 
reach us ; we hope that we shall be able to escape. Here the 
hope and the fear, opposite as the emotions are, arise from the 
same objects, the one or the other prevailing according to the 
greater or less probability on either side." Now, it is admitted 
that, in a popular sense, the objects may, perhaps, be said to 
be the same ; but surely not in a philosophical sense. In the 
first case, the object of desire is success ; the object of fear 
defeat. In the latter case the descent of the misfortune is the 
object of fear ; and escape from it the object of desire. And 
even when the presence of the same being awakens both of 
the emotions, it can only be said, in a popular sense, that the 
object of the desire, and of the fear, is the same. We desire 
the continued esteem of a friend — we fear to lose it. The per- 
manent possession of a good is the object in one case — the 
permanent loss of it the object in the other. And to maintain 
that the object of desire and fear is the same, because the being 
before us is the same, appears to me almost as great a mistake 
as to alledge that the object of sight and of smell is the same, 
because the cause of both the sensations is to be found in the 
single rose before us. 



. 



DESIRES. 301 

From the preceding account of the nature of desire, it fol- 
lows, as a necessary consequence, that the emotion thus de- 
signated is only awakened by that which appears to us good. 
We employ this phraseology on the ground that, to secure the 
existence of desire, it is not necessary that the object be good, 
either in a moral or physical point of view ; but merely that k 
be so regarded by the mind which contemplates it. It is nei- 
ther morally nor physically good, t. e. when the future as well 
as the present is considered, to indulge to excess in the plea- 
sures of the table ; but it appears good, in the latter sense, to 
those who shut out of view every moment but the present ; they 
are, accordingly, drunkards, or gluttons. This is admitted by 
Dr. Brown. " To desire," he says, ** it is essential that the 
object appear good." — M What we do not desire may be con- 
ceived by us to be good, relatively to others who desire it, but 
cannot seem to be good relatively to us."* I have been more 
desirous to lay before the reader this statement by Dr. Brown, 
because, on the subject of desire, I am constrained, after long- 
continued and anxious thought, to differ very materially from 
him, on a point of some importance in itself, and of greatly 
more importance, when all its consequences and bearings are 
properly considered. 

From the language employed by Dr. Brown, *' To desire, it 
is essential that the object appear good," we might have ex- 
pected to hear him state that, in our conceptions at least, the 
object desired must possess some excellence of a moral or 
physical nature, — that the conception of this excellence pre- 
cedes the desire, and is, in fact, the cause of it. Nothing, how- 
ever, can be more opposite than this from the doctrine of this 
distinguished writer. The good which is essential to desire is, 
he'tells us, desirableness ; and desirableness does not necessa- 
rily involve the consideration of moral or physical good ; — " it 
is the relation of certain objects to certain emotions, and no- 
thing more" — "the tendency of certain objects," in conse- 
quence of the nature of the mind, * to be followed by that par- 
ticular feeling which we term desire." It follows, from this 
statement, that the good which Dr. Brown calls desirableness, 
is not the power of the object desired to yield satisfaction. Ac- 
cordingly he tells us it is not. Objects do not appear desirable 
to us because they yield pleasure, for they would have been de- 
sirable had they yielded none — the pleasure they impart is the 
result, not the cause, of the desire. And, again, in a longer 

* Vol. iii. p. 373. 
26* 



302 CLASS III. — DESIRES ARE EXCITED 

statement, he says, " We desire, indeed, all these objects, and, 
however ill fitted some of them may appear to be productive 
of delight, we may perhaps feel pleasure in all these objects, 
—as we certainly should feel pain, if we were not to obtain 
what we desire, whatever the object of desire may have been ; 
but it is not the pleasure which was the circumstance which 
prompted our desire when it arose, — it was the desire previous- 
ly awakened, which was accompanied with pleasure, or was pro- 
ductive of pleasure — the pleasure being in all these cases the ef- 
fect of the previous desire, and necessarily presupposing it."* 

The same doctrine had been previously affirmed by Dr. 
Price, from whom, indeed, Dr. Brown seems to have borrowed 
it. His language is the following : " I cannot help in this 
place, stepping aside a little to take notice of an opinion al- 
ready referred to ; I mean the opinion of those who allow of 
no ultimate object of desire besides private good. What has 
led to this opinion has been inattention to the difference be- 
tween desire and the pleasure implied in the gratification of 
it. The latter is subsequent to the former, and founded in it : 
that is, an object, such as fame, knowledge, or the welfare of 
a friend, is desired, not because we foresee that when obtained 
it will give us pleasure, but vice versa, obtaining it give us 
pleasure, because we previously desired it, or had an affection 
carrying us to it, and resting in it. And were there no such 
affections, the very foundations of happiness would be de- 
stroyed."")* 

The more common doctrine on this subject most unques- 
tionably is, that desire is kindled by that which is good — by 
what is rendered good to us either by our physical constitution 
or our moral state. I shall proceed to mention some of the 
difficulties in which the system of Drs. Brown and Price is in- 
volved. 

First, that system mistakes, I imagine, the real cause of the 
pleasure which the objects of our desires afford us. This, in- 
deed, appears € to me the radical error. Objects afford pleasure, 
such is the doctrine, because they have been previously desir- 
ed ; without previous desire they could yield none ; thus de- 
sire is the spring of all the enjoyments of man. Let us try this 
doctrine in relation to sensitive pleasures. There are certain 
odors, tastes, and sounds which are universally pleasing. 
Why are they so ? The proper answer would appear to be, 
that they are rendered so by the constitution of the mind. The 

* Vol. iii. p. 407. t Vide Review, p. 118. 



BY THE CONCEPTION OF GOOD. 303 

very first time we experience them they yield pleasure, or ra- 
ther they are themselves happy states of mind : they need no 
previous states to render them so. But, according to the doc- 
trine opposed, the sensation of sweetness, for instance, must be 
desired before it can be agreeable, and this previous desire 
renders it agreeable. To my apprehension, I acknowledge, 
this is reversing the natural order of things. Certain sensations 
are by nature agreeable ; their return is desired, and desired 
because they are agreeable. What the Creator of the mind 
has rendered agreeable to it, he has inspired a desire to enjoy. 
The order opposed, however, is the exact reverse of this. Cer- 
tain desires after certain sensations exist, in consequence of 
which desires, the sensations are agreeable. And, since all 
desires suppose the knowledge of their objects, — for we can 
no more desire without desiring something, than regret without 
regretting something, — it follows that the mind has the know- 
ledge of external objects, or of the sensations they produce, 
previous to any experience of the sensations. 

The views of both these writers appear to have been go- 
verned by the circumstance, that we feel pain when we do not 
obtain the object of our desire. That pain could not have 
existed, it is assumed, without the previous existence of the 
desire ; and it is hence inferred that the pleasure we enjoy 
when the object is obtained, is the result of the desire, or ra- 
ther produced by it. The conclusion here would not, however, 
be a legitimate one, even if the premises were granted. It is 
possible that desire may be an invariable accompaniment of 
the pleasure, without being the cause of it. Certain objects 
may be the source of pleasure to the mind, in consequence of 
its physical constitution or moral state. They would have been 
the source of pleasure, if the susceptibility of desire had not 
formed an element of the mental constitution. That suscepti- 
bility may have been implanted, not to constitute, according 
to the statements of Drs. Brown and Price, the spring of all 
the enjoyments of man ; but to secure the active pursuit of 
those objects which have been so adapted to the nature of the 
mind, as to minister those enjoyments. It may be true that, in 
adult age, we receive pleasure from no object which had not 
been previously desired ; because desire is an invariable con- 
comitant of our conception of an object as good. But it is 
surely the object which is the cause of the pleasure, and not 
the desire. The system opposed appears to represent all ob- 
jects as naturally indifferent to the mind. We might smell a 
rose, taste the juice of the peach, obtain knowledge, live in so- 



30£ GLASS III.— -DESIRES ARE EXCITED 

ciety, without deriving pleasure from one or the other, if we 
had not the susceptibility of desire. " They give us pleasure 
because ive previously desired them," says Dr. Price ; so that 
the desire, and not the object, is the cause of the pleasure. 
The true state of the case appears, on the contrary, to me to 
be, that certain objects are the sources of pleasure to the mind, 
in consequence of its physical constitution or its moral state, 
and that a susceptibility of desiring these objects has been im- 
planted within us to stimulate us to pursue them. 

Secondly, [the statement of Dr. Brown does not appear to 
supply a solution of the fact, that dissatisfaction often succeeds 
the acquisition of the object of desire. If desire be the cause 
of the pleasure which the objects of our pursuit give us, plea- 
sure ought invariably to result from their acquisition. The ef- 
fect should always succeed the cause. Our hope of obtaining 
the object we desire might indeed be disappointed, but wc could 
not experience disappointment in it. To alledge that, when 
obtained, it does not answer our expectation, is to give up the 
system. It is to admit that the pleasure is not the result of the 
desire — that it is the consequence of the adaptation of an ob- 
ject to our mental and moral nature ; so that, where this adap- 
tation does not exist, no degree of previous desire can impart 
to any object the power of conferring happiness, when its na- 
ture becomes fully known to us. 

Thirdly, the statements of Dr. Brown appear to be at vari- 
ance with the fact, that the objects of desire are not merely ex- 
ceedingly numerous, but that, in many cases, they stand in di- 
rect opposition to each other. The sensations of men are, for 
the most part, alike. What is scarlet, or bitter, or fragrant to 
one, is so to another ; but what is desirable to one, is often not 
desirable to another. Yet, if the opinion of Dr. Brown — "that 
it is the very nature of the mind, as originally constituted with 
certain tendencies, that some objects should appear to it im- 
mediately desirable ,, — be correct, how should there be this 
dissimilarity ? How could our emotions in this case be more 
susceptible of change than our sensations ? I grant that desire 
is susceptible of change ; but on this fact I build an argument, 
that it does not arise in the manner stated by Dr. Brown. If 
there be an original tendency in any object to awaken desire, 
(a tendency which is independent of any view which the mind 
takes of it as adapted to give pleasure,) it appears to me that 
this tendency must operate as uniformly in producing desire, 
as the tendency of a body to give us a certain sensation is uni- 
formly followed, when the body is brought into contact with 



BY THE CONCEPTION OF GOOD. 305 

the appropriate organ, by that sensation. I cannot account 
for the great diversity of human desires, without supposing 
that desire follows the notion of good, or is awakened by the 
expectation of pleasure ; in that case, the different mental at- 
tainments and moral habits of men sufficiently explain the 
circumstance. 

Fourthly, the change which is effected in the desires of the 
same individual, in consequence of the different views he is 
led to form of the influence of various objects and events upon 
his happiness, seems to me incompatible with the statements of 
Dr. Brown. Medicine is presented to a sick person — he does 
not desire it. Its probable influence in removing his disease 
is explained to him — he now does desire it. Can it be doubted 
that, in this case, the view of private good excited the desire ? 
There are cases, also, in which so mighty a moral revolution 
takes place in the mind, that almost all the things which had 
been formerly desired, become objects of dislike and avoid- 
ance ! How is this, unless we suppose that, in consequence of 
the production of a different taste, the former objects of de- 
sire are no longer felt to be good, and, therefore, no longer de- 
sired ? How can the fact be reconciled with the doctrine 
which affirms that certain objects are naturally desirable, as 
certain others are naturally sweet, or bitter, or fragrant 1 In 
short, it will be found, 1 imagine, impossible to account for the 
phaenomena of desire, without supposing that the emotion is 
originally awakened by that which is thought likely to minister 
to our happiness — that, to render an object desirable, it must 
have, or be conceived to have, a permanent quality of good- 
ness. I mean not that it must " appear good" in the sense 
which Dr. Brown attaches to the words ; but that it must pos- 
sess some conceived quality of a physical or moral nature, 
which is, in itself, adapted to promote our enjoyment. In this 
manner only, I apprehend, can the emotion be originalhj 
awakened ; though I am willing to concede that it may now 
arise without any thought of personal pleasure, through the in- 
fluence of suggestion. The conception of the object, and the 
desire, have so frequently existed simultaneously, that the latter 
state may instantly follow the former, by the ordinary laws of 
suggestion, without that intervening thought of pleasure which 
was necessary, at first, to connect them together. The desire 
of wealth may now arise without any thought of the pleasures 
which wealth procures, through the influence of the same laws ; 
yet it cannot surely be doubted that it was originally produced 



306 CLASS III. DESIRES, 

by a conception of the honor, and influence, and happiness 
which it secures to its possessor. 

Finally? it is worthy of our inquiry, whether the sentiments 
of Dr. Brown are not embarrassed by powerful difficulties of 
a moral nature. When the desires of men are placed upon 
forbidden objects, we admit that this fact does not implicate 
the holiness of the Divine Being, since it is the result of their 
depravity, leading them to call that which is evil, good ; and 
hence to desire it. But. if the various objects of desire are 
immediately desirable, and do not become so by means of our 
conception of their adaptation to minister to our good, — and if 
they are rendered thus immediately desirable by the physical 
constitution of the mind, — where must the blame be cast, but 
upon that God who created the mind, and gave it all its natu- 
ral tendencies 1 How can a man be censured, if this be the 
case, for desiring what is evil, any more than for tasting gall 
to be bitter, and honey sweet ? 

I cannot avoid suspecting that Dr. Brown has confounded 
two things which are surely not identical ; viz. the pleasure 
which is involved in the act of desiring, and the pleasure which 
the object desired affords, when our efforts to obtain it are 
successful. I am led to form this opinion by one of his own 
illustrations. " We do not love for the sake of the pleasure 
of loving; in like manner we do not desire for the sake of the 
pleasure of desiring." This is doubtless true ; yet it does 
not follow, from hence, that we do not desire an object for the 
sake of the happiness it will yield when obtained. That is a 
totally different thing. To make the illustration bear upon 
the case in hand, it is incumbent upon Dr. Brown to show, 
not merely that we do not love for the sake of the pleasure 
of loving, but that our love to any object precedes the feeling 
of any of its qualities as agreeable to us, and even renders 
them agreeable. Few, however, will venture to assert this. 
Love is attracted by qualities which, in consequence of our 
mental constitution, or moral state, are felt to be agreeable to 
us. Desire, in like manner, which is, perhaps, nothing more 
than love itself, modified by the thought of the object as ab- 
sent, and by regret on that account, is awakened by the con- 
ception of the happiness which would result from its posses- 
sion. 

If Dr. Brown be in error on the subject of desire, his mis- 
take is radically different, in its nature, from that into which 
Mr. Jeffery appears to have fallen in his late celebrated article 
on Phrenology. In the opinion of Mr. J. the mere apprehen- 



BOW CLASSIFIED. 307 

sion of good would necessarily excite hope or desire, without 
what he calls a faculty of desire ; i. e. according to the phra- 
seology which we adopt, without a distinct susceptibility of 
experiencing the emotion of hope or desire. Dr. Brown sup- 
poses, on the other hand, that the emotion may arise without 
the previous apprehension of good. Both appear to me to be 
mistaken. The mere apprehension of good would not origi- 
nate the emotion of desire, without a distinct susceptibility; 
the susceptibility would not, on the other hand, be developed, 
without the apprehension of good. 

Now, as desire is excited by the idea of good, we may ad- 
mit as many classes of desires as there are species of good 
to be expected and desired. The classification, then, which 
we adopt, is not built upon any radical difference in the emo- 
tion itself, but in the objects which excite it. 

Yet, though desire, whatever be its object, is radically the 
same emotion, it may exist in different degrees or gradations, 
which may be very properly marked by distinctive names,' 
such as wish, hope, expectation, confidence, &c. 

By most preceding writers the terms just mentioned have 
been regarded as representative of so many radically different 
emotions ; at any rate, they have not been considered as 
merely denoting different degrees of the same emotion. " De- 
sire," we have been told, " always implies that the object de- 
sired is attainable; and this remark," it is added, " suggests 
an important distiv 3tion between wish and desire. Wish has 
been sometimes termed inactive desire. Desire has been 
considered as the union of wish and hope. A man may 
wish what he has no hope of obtaining ; because hope, if ra- 
tional, always supposes the possibility of.the attainment of the 
object. Wish, like desire, may arise from the view of some- 
thing good ; but because that good is not deemed attainable, 
it does not call forth activity and effort. A beggar may wish 
to be a king, and a man to fly ; but in neither case can it be 
said that these are desired. A wish may refer to the past ; 
but desire invariably regards the future. A sick man may be 
said to wish for health, but we do not say he desires it. He 
desires to use the means requisite for attaining it, because they 
are within his reach. But the success of those means does 
not depend upon his power, and, therefore, he is only said to 
wish for it." 

Now, it is conceded that this writer has stated, with suffi- 
cient accuracy, the manner in which these terms are employed 

and shown that they could not, in the various cases supposed, 



308 CLASS III. DESIRE. 






be substituted for each other. But he has failed to prove that 
the words wish, desire, hope, &c. denote emotions genetically 
distinct ; because, marking, as they do, different degrees of the 
same feeling, they are obviously incapable of transposition. 
The desire of a beggar to be a king is so powerfully repressed by 
a conviction of the impossibility of attaining to the possession of 
regal power, that it has not opportunity to grow, so to speak, 
into hope ; he merely wishes it ; it is desire in the positive de- 
gree. The illustration of Dr. Brown is, we think, perfectly con- 
clusive on this point. " Our hopes, wishes, expectations, &c. do 
not form classes of feelings essentially distinct from our general 
emotions of desire ; but are merely those emotions themselves 
in all their variety, according as we conceive that there is 
more or less likelihood of our obtaining the particular objects 
which we are desirous of obtaining. In a competition of any 
kind, in which there are many candidates, there is, perhaps, 
some one candidate who is aware that he has very little inter- 
est, and who has, therefore, scarcely more than a mere wish 
of success. He canvasses the electors, and he finds, to his 
surprise, perhaps, that many votes are given to him. He 
no longer wishes merely, he hopes ; and, with every new vote 
that is promised, his hope grows more vivid. A very few 
votes additional, convert the hope into expectation ; and, when 
a decided majority is engaged to him by promise, even ex- 
pectation is too weak a word to express the emotion which he 
feels ; — it is trust, confidence, reliance, i)r whatever other 
word we may choose to express that modification of desire 
which is not the joy of absolute certainty, like the actual at- 
tainment of an agreeable object, and yet scarcely can be said 
to differ from certainty. In this series of emotions nothing 
has occurred to modify them, but a mere increase of proba- 
bility in the successive stages ; and the same scale of proba- 
bilities which admits of being thus accurately measured in an 
election that is numbered by votes, exists truly, though perhaps 
less distinctly, in every other case of desire, in which we rise 
from a mere wish to the most undoubting confidence.* 

The word Desire may, then, be regarded as a general term, 
inclusive of all our emotions of this kind, whatever be their 
objects or gradations. Wish, hope, expectation, confidence, 
merely exhibit different degrees of intensity in the same feel- 
ing. It is, therefore, perfectly correct, philosophically speak- 
ing, to say that a beggar desires to be a king — his wish to en- 

* P. 386. 



STATEMENTS CONCERNING THE WILL. 309 

joy regal power is desire — though we cannot say he hopes to 
possess it ; hope is desire in the comparative degree, and to 
that degree of the emotion he has not attained. 

It may here be observed, that whatever be the object of de- 
sire, the general feeling admits of all the gradations to which 
we have now referred. We may wish, hope, expect, &c. to 
obtain knowledge, or wealth, or honor. Dr. Brown states, &at 
when our desires become very vivid, or very permanent, they 
are called passions, which constitute thus no distinct class of 
feelings. 

The term desire is said to be sometimes synonimous with 
command. This is the case when the expression of desire 
should carry with it the force of a command ; as when a pa- 
rent desires his child to perform a certain action ; so that, in 
fact, there is no change in the meaning of the word. 

The preceding statements lead me to advert a little to the 
nature of the will, or the power of volition, as it is called. I 
shall first, however, glance at the doctrines which have been 
propounded in relation to it. 

By most writers on Mental Science, the will has been re- 
garded as a distinct and an original power of the mind. Mr. 
Locke gives us the following description of volition. " It is," 
says he, " an act of the mind knowingly exerting that dominion 
it takes itself to have over any part of the man, by employing 
it in, or withholding it from, any particular action." This is, in- 
deed, rather a definition of what writers of this class would con- 
sider an act of the will, than of the will itself; but it intimates, 
with sufficient clearness, the notion he entertained of the latter. 

Dr. Reid is more explicit. " Every man," says he, " is con- 
scious of a power to determine in things which he conceives 
to depend upon his determinations. To this power we give the 
name of Will ; and, as it is usual in the operations of the mind 
to give the same name to the power, and to the act of that 
power, the term Will is often put to signify the act of deter- 
mining, which more properly is called volition. Yolition, there- 
fore, signifies the act of willing and determining ; and will is 
put indifferently to signify either the power of willing, or the 
act." The same author tells us that, " by preceding writers, 
the term Will was made to signify not only our determination 
to act or not to act, but every motive or excitement to action,"* 
— a fact which shows how little regard was formerly paid to 
precision ; since the error is not less than that which confounds 

* Vol. iii. p. 71. 
27 



310 [CLASS III. DESIRE 

the rose with the sensation of fragrance produced by it, or 
even with the power of sensation itelf. 

Having thus exhibited the wiH as a distinct faculty of the 
mmd, Dr. Reid proceeds to state that it differs, in various re- 
spects, from desire ; and is, in some cases, directly opposed 
to it. He speaks, indeed, of three acts of the mind — an act of 
will, of desire, and of command — which are sometimes con- 
founded, but which he affirms to be different ; and he thus de- 
velops his views with respect to the nature of that difference, 
* What we will," he says, " must be an action, and our own 
action ; what we desire may not be our own action, it may be 
no action at all. We may be said to desire meat or drink, but 
not to will it. A man desires that his children may be happy, 
and that they may behave well. Their being happy is no ac- 
tion at all; their behaving well is no action of his, but theirs." 

And even with respect to our own actions, there is said to 
be a distinction between desire and will ; for we may desire 
what we do not will, and will what we do not desire ; nay, what 
we have a great aversion to. 

Command is thus distinguished from will. The object of 
will, is some action of our own ; the object of command, some 
action of another person. Command is also a social act of the 
mind, having no existence but by a communication of thought 
to some intelligent being ; and implying, therefore, a belief 
that there is such a being. Desire and will are said, on the 
contrary, to be solitary acts, which do not imply any such com- 
munication or belief.* 

Some of the preceding statements appear to me unfounded, 
and others to convey little or no meaning. " Command is a so- 
cial act of the mind;" what is the meaning of "• command" 
here ? Is the term intended to denote that state of mind which 
directly prompts the words in which the command is issued ? 
On two accounts it is impossible that this can be the meaning 
of Dr. Reid ; first, such a state of mind is no more a social act 
of the mind than an act of desire, or an act of will ; secondly, 
Dr. Reid adds, that a command can have no existence but by 
a communication of thought to some intelligent being. Now, 
an act or state of mind prompting to the communication of 
thought, cannot exist by the communication. It is perfectly 
manifest that by " command " Dr. Reid meant, the words in 
which the command is embodied. In this sense a command 
may be allowed to be a social act ; but, unfortunately for the 
Doctor's system, it is an act of the organs of speech, and not 

* Vide vol. iii. p. 77, 



AND WILL IDENTICAL, 311 

an act of the mind at all. To represent command, indeed, as an 
act of the mind, is to use words without meaning. A command 
is a desire, or a determination, or volition, embodied in words. 
No command exists till this determination is clothed in a 
verbal dress ; previous to the moment in which it is thus 
clothed, it differs in no respect from our other and our ordi- 
nary volitions. 

The doctrine of Dr. Brown on this subject is radically dif- 
ferent. A volition, according to his statements, is a desire 
springing up in peculiar circumstances, and so appropriating 
to itself a particular name ; it supposes, therefore, no distinct 
and original faculty — nothing more than that general suscep- 
tibility which is the source of all our emotions of this class. 
On various accounts certain actions, i. e. certain motions of 
some of the bodily members, may be regarded in the light of 
a good, and so become objects of desire. But as the actual 
motions follow instantly, by Divine appointment, our desires 
io perform them, these desires perish, of course, in the mo- 
ment of their birth. It is to desires of this kind that we give 
the name of Volitions ; but they are not specifically different 
from our permanent desires — all of which, but for the circum- 
stance of their permanence, would be denominated volitions, 
"' We are said," says Dr. Brown, ** to desire wealth, and to 
will the motion of our hand ; but if the motion of our hand had 
not followed the desire of moving it, we should then have been 
said not to will, but to desire its motion ;" as, we may add, is 
the ease with a paralytic " The distance, or the immediate 
attainableness of the good, is thus the sole difference ; but, as 
the words are at present used, they have served to produce a 
belief that of the same immediate good, in the case of any 
simple bodily movement, there are both a desire and a voli- 
tion; that the will which moves the hand, for instance, is some- 
thing different from the desire of moving it, — the one particu- 
lar motion being preceded by two feelings, a volition, and a 
desire. Of this complex mental process, however, we have 
no consciousness ; — the desire of moving a limb, in the usual 
circumstances of health and freedom, being always directly 
followed by its motion."* 

I have little doubt that the doctrine of Dr. Brown will ulti- 
mately approve itself to the judgment of every candid man. 
It is supported by the evidence of consciousness. What is 
that volition (as it is called) to move the limbs for some spe- 

* Cause and Effect, pp. 52-3. 



312 CLASS III. DESIRE. 

cific purpose, but a desire to move them, in order to secure 
the accomplishment of that purpose ? 

It will be necessary, however, to examine the arguments 
on which Dr. Reid grounds his statement, that, even with re- 
ference to our own actions, desire and will are not identical. 
This is rendered more especially necessary, by the appear- 
ance of a note attached to Mr. Dugald Stewart's third volume 
of " Elements of the Philosophy of the Human Mind,"— a 
note which, on Mr. Stewart's account, is to be regretted. 
There is, perhaps, no one who would not concede to this dis- 
tinguished writer, that his judgment on any point in mental 
science is entitled to high consideration ; but it is painful to 
see that, in opposing an opinion of Dr. Brown, Mr. Stewart 
does not seem to think it necessary for him to say more, than 
to pronounce that opinion u a slip " — taking no notice what- 
ever of the argument by which it is supported. On referring 
again to the note, I find I must correct myself. ' Mr. Stewart 
does say more. He tells us that he took the trouble, many 
years ago, to point out this error to Dr. Brown ; and he fur- 
ther expresses his regret that the latter should, in these cir- 
cumstances, have been so unreasonable as not to abandon it! 
Whether this is the precise style which even Mr. Stewart is 
entitled to hold with regard to Dr. Brown, the philosophical 
world will doubtless form its own opinion. 

The substance of Mr. Locke's objection against the doc- 
trine that desire and will are synonimous terms, to which Mr. 
Stewart refers, is contained in the statements of Dr. Reid, 
which we now proceed to examine. " We may desire," he 
says, " what we do not will, and will what we do not desire." 
In support of this assertion, he adds — " A man athirst has a 
strong desire to drink, but for some particular reason he de- 
termines not to gratify his desire. A judge, from a regard to 
justice, and to the duty of his office, dooms a criminal to die, 
while, from humanity, or particular affection, he desires that he 
should live. A man for health, may take a nauseous draught 
for which he has no desire, but a great aversion. Desire, 
therefore, even when its object is some action of our own, is 
only an incitement to will, but it is not volition. The determi- 
nation of the mind may be not to do what we desire to do. But 
as desire is often accompanied by will, we are apt to overlook 
the distinction between them."* 

On these statements I observe, 

* Vol. iii. pp. 75-6. 



DR. REID'S STATEMENTS EXAMINED. 313 

First, That they appear to be self-contradictory, even on 
Dr. Reid's own principles. Granting, for the sake of argu- 
ment, that volition and desire are two distinct and original 
principles, it will not be denied by him that both are awakened 
by the conception of good. We will that which appears good ; 
we desire that which appears good. How, then, can that good 
which produces volition, fail to excite desire ? How can the 
determination of the mind be to do what we do not desire to 
<lo ? If the man wills to take the medicine, does he not desire^ 
all things considered, to take it ? Is it not better for him, upon 
the whole, to take it, than to refrain from talcing it ? Does he 
not think so ? In a state of health it might be an evil to take 
the medicine, but in the hour of sickness it becomes a good ; 
and yet Dr. Reid would have us believe that, regarding as 
he must do the neglect of the medicine as an evil, he yet de- 
sires to neglect it ; L -e. in other terms, he is averse to that 
which appears good, and desires that which appears evil. Credit 
Judceus Aipella I 

Secondly, I observe, that the statements of Dr. Reid pro- 
ceed, it is conceived, on a misunderstanding of the cases to 
which he refers. There is an opposition, he affirms, between 
will and desire, in the cases just mentioned. To this it is re- 
plied, that there may be an opposition between the ultimate vo- 
lition to take the medicine, pass the sentence, &c. and the ha- 
bitual desires of these individuals — yea, an opposition between 
this volition and the almost immediately preceding desire ; 
but there can be no opposition, it is imagined, between this 
volition, at the moment when it exists, and the desire of the 
individual at that moment. They must then agree ; they are 
identical. " The determination of the mind," says Dr. Brown, 
■** never is, and never can be, to do what in the particular cir- 
cumstances of the moment we do not desire to do. When we 
take a nauseous draught, there is a dislike, indeed, of the sen- 
sation which follows the motion," (i. e. of taking it,) u but 
there is no dislike of the motion itself, which alone depends 
upon our will, and which is desired by us, not from any love 
of the disagreeable sensation that follows it," — " but from our 
greater dislike of that continuance of bad health, which we 
suppose to be the probable consequence of omitting the mo- 
tion. The desire of moving the hand and the muscles of de- 
glutition, — or, to use a word which Dr. Reid would have pre- 
ferred, the will to move them, — is a state of mind as different, 
and as distinguishable from the dislike of bad health, as from 
the dislike of the draught. It is a new feeling, to which a wide 

27* 



314 CLASS III.— DESIRE. 






view of many circumstances has given birth, — a desire not of 
pleasure in the draught, but of less evil, in one of two unavoid- 
able evils."* 

This is Dr. Brown's " slip." I confess I should be glad 
to meet with many of a similar kind, in the writings of other 
philosophers. It will not be necessary to examine at length 
the other instances adduced by Dr. Reid : we shall briefly re- 
fer to them. A judge, he argues, wills the death of a criminal, 
but he does not desire it ; and, therefore, will and desire are 
not synonimous terms. We answer, he did not desire it a 
short time previous to the moment in which he passed the sen- 
tence. Two things, before the ultimate decision of his mind, 
appeared good to him — to spare the offender — and to preserve 
his character as an upright judge. After struggling for the 
ascendency for some time, perhaps, the latter consideration 
triumphed ; it appeared desirable to him, upon the whole, to 
pass the sentence, and from that desire the sentence actually 
flowed. There is here then no opposition between will and 
desire. Dr. Reid has evidently confounded the habitual de- 
sire of the judge, or his desire a short time previous to his ul- 
timate decision, with the desire of the moment, when, as the 
mouth of the law, he warned the criminal to prepare for his 
approaching fate. 

Again, in the case of an individual compelled to support a 
weight in his outstretched arm, under fear of a more painful 
punishment if he draw it back, Dr. Reid contends that there is 
an opposition between will and desire. " He wills," says he, 
" the very pain which he does not desire." This statement, 
we reply, is unfounded, even on his own principles ; — the pain 
not being an action of his own, not being even an action at all, 
the individual cannot, according to Dr. Reid's own account of 
volition,! be said to will it. And the fact is, that, on no princi- 
ples, can the pain be the direct object of volition. The thing 
directly determined upon is, not the endurance of pain, but the 
continued extension of the arm. He wills this as the least of 
two evils ; and, surely, if there were a distinction between 
will and desire, he must desire it too ; or it would follow, that 
the mind is constituted to desire a great evil, rather than a 
comparatively insignificant one. 

The preceding statements explain the language of the apos- 
tle, " For what I would, that do I not." Some individuals, 
imbibing the principles of Dr. Reid, have maintained from this 

* Cause and Effect, pp. 62-3. t Vide, p. 424. 



ROMANS VII. 15. EXPLAINED. 315 

passage, that Christians sometimes commit sin in opposition 
to their wills at the very moment of committing it ! They seem 
to imagine that the object of temptation, operating upon de- 
praved propensities, stimulates desire, and that desire becomes 
at length so vehement as to draw them into rebellion, although 
volition is actually on the side of rectitude. The doctrine ad- 
vanced in the preceding pages proves that this can never be 
the case. The desire to perform the sinful action, in conse- 
quence of which it is performed, is the will to perform it. The 
habitual will of a Christian may be on the side of obedience ; it 
actually is so. Where this is not the case, the Christian charac- 
ter does not exist ; but to affirm that the will is on the side of 
obedience, at the moment of disobedience, is to give utterance 
to a sentiment, all the absurdities involved in which I cannot 
now stop to unfold. There can be no rational doubt that the 
opposition which is too frequently found to exist between the 
habitual and occasional determinations of Christians, is the 
subject of affirmation in the passage to which reference has 
been made. 

There is, then, no radical difference between will and desire. 
The former term is, indeed, a very convenient word to denote 
" those desires which have instant termination in a muscular 
motion, which is their object ; and to distinguish them from 
such as relate to objects not directly and immediately attain- 
able, and, therefore, not accompanied with the belief of direct 
and immediate attainment ; but still it must not be forgotten 
that the mental part of the sequence, the momentary feeling, 
which exists in our consciousness alone, and ceases almost as 
soon as it arises, is a desire that differs not from our other de- 
sires, more than those others mutually differ."* 

The important bearing of this view of the nature of the will, 
or of volition, upon the philosophical question of Liberty and 
Necessity, as well as upon certain keenly contested theologi- 
cal topics, will be apparent to all my readers. Such is the con- 
stitution of the mind, that every thing which appears good, (and 
many things appear good, or the contrary, according to the 
moral state of an individual,) excites the emotion of desire ; 
i. e. it produces what we call volition, when the desire termi- 
nates in muscular action. It produces volition, for the same rea- 
son that the odoriferous particles of a rose originate the sen- 
sation of sweetness, viz. because God has so formed the mind, 
that the events to which we have now referred, shall ever be 

* Cause and Effect, p. 55-57. 



316 CLASS III. — LIBERTY OP THE WILL. 

in immediate sequence. In connexion with this view of the 
matter, how is it, then, possible to hold the notion of the self- 
determining power of the will ? Mr. Stewart might well say 
that Dr. Brown's doctrines on the subject of volition, if true, 
" settle the question concerning the liberty of the will." For 
who would even think of talking of the self-determining power 
of desire — the self-determining power of love, hope, joy — the 
self-determining power of sensation, &c. 1 A volition, or de- 
termination, when freed from the mystery in which it has been 
too generally involved, is found to be nothing more than a de- 
sire — a state of mind which can no more arise without a cause, 
than a sensation or perception ; — and a state of mind which 
must as infallibly arise, I may add, in the circumstances 
which are adapted to produce it, as the feeling of fragrance, 
when the odoriferous particles of a rose are brought into con- 
tact with the organ. To say that the mind possesses a self-de- 
termining power, is to affirm that volition, i. e. desire, may 
exist without a cause, (and if any thing can exist without a 
cause, why may not the universe itself?) — that the mind may 
be affected without any thing to affect it, and drawn without 
any thing to draw it. To maintain that when it appears to us 
belter, upon the whole, to put certain muscles in motion, than 
to allow them to remain at rest, no desire, i. e. no volition to 
move them may arise, is equivalent with the declaration, that 
when the particles of the rose are brought into contact with the 
organ, in a sound state, there may be no sensation. To exhibit 
it as a matter of choice with us whether we will submit to the 
influence of motives, when their moral power is discerned by 
the mind, is equivalent with stating that the mind chooses whe- 
ther it will receive sensation in the case referred to — than 
which few things can be more absurd. To submit mentally to 
the influence of inducements to virtuous conduct, can mean 
nothing more than to have volition, i. e, desire, awakened by 
them. To choose to submit to their influence is, therefore, to 
will, i. e. desire, the existence of will or desire : it is to choose 
to choose to practice the conduct enjoined. 

There is not much reason to doubt that the bearing of Dr. 
Brown's statements upon this subject is partly the reason, at any 
rate, of Mr. Stewart's attack upon them. They certainly " settle 
the question concerning the liberty of the will," but they do it 
in a manner which is not the most agreeable to the latter gen- 
tleman. " The philosophical speculations of the Scotch meta- 
physicians," says the Rev. J. Gilbert,* (including in his charge 
* Vide Memoirs of Dr. E. Williams,— note. 



THE DESIRE OF CONTINUED EXISTENCE. 317 

Dr. Reid, Mr. Stewart, &c. and most absurdly, as well as 
unjustly, connecting Dr. Brown with them,) are adapted to 
subvert the theological creed of their country." The state- 
ments of Dr. B. must be especially obnoxious to him. 



CONSIDERATION OF OUR PARTICULAR DESIRES. 
THE DESIRE OF CONTINUED EXISTENCE. 

This is not very commonly included in the catalogues of our 
desires ; though, as it is one of the most general of our pro- 
spective emotions, it is not a little singular that it should have 
been omitted. It has, perhaps, been thought that existence is 
not a good per se ; and so does not merit, any more than gold, 
a place among what we regard as the natural objects of desire. 
I am, however, disposed to think that life is, in itself, regarded 
as a blessing ; so that existence, as mere existence, may be de- 
sired ; hence the tenacity with which some individuals cling 
to life, even when it is to them a cup of almost unmingled bit- 
terness. Existence is, howover, doubtless chiefly valuable to 
us " as that which may be rendered happy ;" and, therefore, 
we sometimes find a recklessness of life among those who are 
bereft of hope as well as happiness — a recklessness which 
sometimes leads them to court danger, and, not unfrequently, 
to lay violent hands upon themselves. 

And, if a susceptibility of this desire constitutes a part of 
our physical constitution, the desire of life cannot be improper 
in itself. It is doubtless unjustifiable, when it is not kept within 
due bounds— when it becomes the paramount and governing 
principle — when it leads us to neglect duty, and, a fortiori, to 
commit sin for the purpose of preserving it ; — and when the 
approaching glories of eternity do not render us even willing, 
if it be the appointment of God, " to depart and be with Christ, 
which is far better." 

So far, indeed, is the love of life from being in itself impro- 
per, that it is a principle of great practical importance and 
utility. " Its existence bespeaks," says Dr. Brown, " the kind- 
ness of that Being, who, in giving to man duties which he has to 
continue for many years to discharge, in a world which is pre- 
paratory for the nobler world that is afterwards to receive him, 
has not left him to feel the place in which he is to perform the 



318 CLASS III. THE DESIRE OF SOCIETY, 1 

duties allotted to him, as a place of barren and gloomy exile." To 
a Christian, who has attained " the full assurance of hope," how 
intolerable must this exile have appeared, had it not been coun- 
terbalanced, in some degree, by the love of life ; if duty had not 
been neglected, how much of that interest, and ardor, and zeal, 
which is happily now sometimes manifested, might never have 
been displayed ! 

THE DESIRE OF SOCIETY. 

u Man is born in society," says Dr. Brown, " dependent on 
it for the preservation of his infant being, and for the comfort 
and happiness of his existence in other years. It is to be the 
source of all the love which he feels, of all the love which he 
excites, and, therefore, of almost all the desires and enjoy- 
ments which he is capable of feeling. He owes to it," he af- 
terwards tells us, " all his strength, as well as all his happi- 
ness." " Man," says another writer, " has many feelings to 
gratify by associating with other beings possessing intelligence 
and thought ; and the pleasure connected with their gratification 
would lead him, independently of an original desire for society, 
to seek for the means of this enjoyment."* 

From statements! like these we might have expected the con- 
clusion to be drawn, that we have no original desire of society. 
Were there indeed reason to suppose that society, without the 
existence of such a desire, would not be preserved, nor even 
formed, we should be constrained to embrace the opinion that 
God has rendered us the instinctive subjects of an emotion 
which is so important to our existence, as well as to our hap- 
piness. But if the enjoyments which society brings would lead 
us to seek and desire it, it is obviously less certain that we 
have an original desire of it ; because we have less cause for 
such a desire. Mr. Stewart, however, considers our desire of 
society instinctive. "Abstracting from those affections which 
interest us in the happiness of others, and from all the ad- 
vantages which we ourselves derive from the social union, we 
are led by a natural and instinctive desire to associate with 
our own species." Dr. Brown also says, that " of a society 
to which man thus owes all his strength, as well as all his hap- 
piness, it is not wonderful that nature should have formed him 
desirous ; and it is in harmony with that gracious provision 
which we have seen realized so effectually in our other emo- 

* Dewar's Moral Philosophy, vol. i. p. 407. 



THE DESIRE OF KNOWLEDGE. 319 

tions, that she has formed him to love the society which profits 
him, without thinking of the profit which it affords."* I can- 
not regard it, for the reasons mentioned above, as certain, yet 
I am not anxious to deny, that God has rendered society, like 
the fragrance of a rose, delightful in itself; so that it may be 
desired, as soon as the mind can form any conception of it, on 
its own account, and not merely on account of the blessings 
which follow in its train. Still I conceive it is desired because 
it is delightful. The order of sequence is, I am constrained to 
think, in opposition to Dr. Brown, the following : Society gives 
pleasure, (by virtue of the mental constitution ;) and is, there- 
fore, desired — and not Society is desired, and therefore o-{ ves 
pleasure. It is observable that Dr. Brown substitutes the word 
44 love " for " desire," in the passage just referred to. He says, 
" we are formed to love" (not desire) " the society," &c. &c.' 
Novv love to an object, as we have seen, does not precede the 
feeling of its qualities as agreeable, and so render them agree- 
able. t The desire or the love of society cannot precede the 
feeling, or the conception, of its agreeableness, and so produce 
that feeling ; for, in that case, it would be rendered a good to 
us by desire, and so could not be desired as a good,— the de- 
sire having previously arisen. And, in that case, I may fur- 
ther add, every thing that is desired must give pleasure, which 
is contrary to fact. The truth seems to be, that God has formed 
us capable of desiring any thing which either is, or appears, 
good for us, physically or morally considered ;— that some 
things are, by virtue of our mental constitution, physical goods 
—and that society may be, and probably is among the num- 
ber. If this be what is meant by an instinctive desire of so- 
ciety, I have no wish to oppose the statement. 

THE DESIRE OF KNOWLEDGE. 

Few principles of our nature are more powerful in their 
operation than the emotion which we thus designate ; nor are 
there any whose influence is either earlier or later felt. It 
may bear different names, in different stages of life ;— it may 
be called curiosity, in the child— and desire to investigate the 
causes of things, in the sage ; but the principle, or the emo- 
tion, is the same in all. " It is developed according to the 
order of our wants and necessities ; being confined, in the first 
instance, exclusively to those properties of material objects, 

* Vol. iii. pp. 420-1. 



320 CLASS III. DESIRE. 

and those laws of the material world, an acquaintance with 
which is essential to the preservation of our animal existence." 
At a later period of life, no individual is exempt from its influ- 
ence ; yet, either in consequence of constitutional differences, 
or of diversified circumstances, its operations are strikingly va- 
rious — an occurrence from which the world is a material gainer, 
as it lays the foundation of all the advantages derived by so- 
ciety from the division, and subdivision of intellectual labor. 
" The desire of knowledge," says Mr. Stewart, " is not 
a selfish principle. As the object of hunger is not happi- 
ness, but food ; so the object of curiosity is not happiness, but 
knowledge."* Although this phraseology is certainly unusual, 
and not very definite, Mr. Stewart appears to mean, by the 
object of hunger and curiosity, the thing desired. Now, I 
fully concede to him that the direct " objects of desire," in 
the cases specified, are food and knowledge — that God has 
made knowledge (like the fragrance of a rose) delightful in 
itself; so that it may be desired, and frequently is desired, on 
its own account, and not merely for the sake of the advanta- 
ges which it secures to its possessor. I cannot, however, con- 
cur in the opinion of Dr. Brown, that the desire of knowledge 
precedes the feeling of knowledge as delightful, and renders it 
delightful. " The continuance of an interesting narrative," 
says Dr. Brown, " affords pleasure, because it gratifies curi- 
osity." Now, as curiosity is nothing but desire, the assertion 
involves the mistake, as I cannot but regard it, that all objects 
afford pleasure, because they have been previously desired. 
The fact, on the contrary, appears to me to be, that, by the 
constitution of the mind, knowledge, like the flavors, and 
odors, &c. to which I formerly referred, is agreeable to it; 
and would have been agreeable, had there been no curiosity 
or desire. The curiosity is implanted to stimulate to the pur- 
suit of knowledge, not to render it delightful. The tale to which 
Dr. Brown refers, conveying information, is itself delightful ; 
the mind is so formed that it cannot be otherwise ; and, there- 
fore, desire arises to hear its conclusion ; because what is de- 
lightful to the mind, God has formed the mind to desire. And 
it is because curiosity or desire is thus necessarily awakened 
to hear the whole of the narrative, of which only a small part 
has been laid before us, that we are apt to ascribe the pleasure 
which the remaining part gives to the curiosity, instead of to 
the narrative itself, or rather to the knowledge which that nar- 
rative conveys. 

♦ Outlines, p. 86. 



THE DESIRE OF TOWER. 321 

The results of knowledge are, however, delightful, as well as 
knowledge itself. The possession of extended information gives 
a man many advantages over others — lifts him to distinction and 
honor — enables him to gratify manyjpowerful propensities of his 
nature ; so that, though knowledge may be desired for its own 
sake, it may also be desired on account of these collateral benefits. 
It is very possible, accordingly, to imagine that we are pursuing 
knowledge for its own sake, when, in fact, our activity is stimu- 
lated merely by love to its results ; and I greatly fear we must 
make the humbling confession, that comparatively little of the 
midnight oil which is consumed in the chase, is a pure and disin- 
terested sacrifice to the love of knowledge. " The connexion," 
says one, " between the desire of knowledge and the desire of so- 
ciety is remarkable ; the former is generally, if not always ac- 
companied with a wish to impart communications to others, 
and thus curiosity ^and the social principles are united. Hence 
it has been doubted, whether a man's curiosity would ever be 
sufficient to engage him in a course of study, if entirely se- 
cluded from the enjoyments and the prospects of society." 
And another writer adds — " The desire of communicating our 
knowledge is so closely connected with the desire of acquiring 
it, that few writers have given it a separate consideration. 
Though the pleasure accompanying it may be traced to the 
lively exercise of our social affections, or to the feeling of su- 
periority which accompanies the conscious possession of know- 
ledge, it is not the less true that it forms a powerful motive to 
perseverance in the most laborious study. It might seem, in- 
deed, that the philosopher, whose labors are to benefit future 
ages rather than his own, is not acting under the influence of 
this stimulant, and that his only incentives 'are the desire of 
knowledge, the wish to do good, and, perhaps, the ambition 
of posthumous reputation ; but even he would not think it 
worth his while to pursue his studies with so much steadiness 
and application, if he enjoyed not in hope the satisfaction of 
enlightening and benefiting his fellow-creatures. He antici- 
pates the future, and, by an illusion not unnatural to man, 
he spreads his conscious existence over it, as he converses, 
in his writings, with the people of succeeding generations."* 

THE DESIRE OF POWER. 

This emotion is excited by the delight which the God of 

* Dewar's Moral Philosophy, vol. i. p. 405. 
28 



322 CLASS in. — tfESfRff. 

nature has rendered power capable of affording to the mind ? 
and by all the good which the possession of it can secure to 
us. We have an original desire of power, if, by that statement? 
it is meant that power is, per se f independently of all its grate- 
ful train of consequences, delightful to the mind. There is no 
more mystery in this, than in the fact that light is pleasant to 
the eye, and the juice of a peach to the taste, — all must be re- 
solved into Divine appointment. The consciousness of power 
arises on the production of an effect, and the ability to produce 
effects is a source of happiness, before we have learned that if 
may be rendered subservient to our enjoyment. " It is not 
merely," says Dr. Brown? ** the noise ?md the shaking of the 
rattle that delights the infant, but the shaking of the rattle by 
his own hands ; an event which gives him the consciousness 
of power, and which, as it cannot delight him from the reflec- 
tion of any benefit which that power may be made to yield 
to himself, must be delightful in itself. " 

The account which this writer has given of the origin and 
progress of this desire, is singularly beautiful. It begins, ac- 
cording to his statements* with the pleasure produced by the 
conscious possession of physical energies. The infant is 
proud of being able to shake the bells of his rattle, — the 
school-boy, of his power to leap further, or to run faster than 
-his companions. Here superior [physical energies of his own 
awaken delight ; the transition is very easy to superior instru- 
ments, or agents. We look on what they do for us, as what 
we do ourselves, since they are ours, as much as our own 
limbs are ours. Hence the boy is proud of having the best 
top or bat ; ** it is a sort of prolongation of the hand which 
wields it, obeying our will with the same ready ministry as that 
with which our hands themselves, more directly, move at our 
bidding." Hence men learn to be proud of having the best 
horses, dogs, &c. They appropriate their actions to themselves^ 
and so rejoice in their superior power. And, having thus ap- 
propriated to themselves the actions of brutes, it is not difficult 
to appropriate what is done by others of their own species, 
when they have acted under their control and command. 
M Every new being," says Dr. Brown, "who obeys us, is thus, 
as it were, a new faculty, or number of faculties, added to our 
physical constitution ; and it is not wonderful, then, that we 
should desire to extend the number of these adventitious fa- 
culties, more than that we should avail ourselves of the in- 
struments of the optician for quickening our sight, or of a 
carriage for conveying us over distances, which it would 






THE DESIRE OF POWER. 323 

have been impossible for us to travel with the same velocity 
on foot.* 

And as power is thus originally delightful, every thing which 
puts us in possession of power, and enables as to exercise it, 
may become an object of desire. Knowledge is directly de- 
sirable, being, as we have seen, in itself the source of happi- 
ness. But knowledge is also the source of influence. The 
power possessed, by men of distinguished talents and attain- 
ments, over others, is prodigious. The empire of Aristotle 
over the world of mind was, for a long period, not less com- 
plete and despotic than the sway of any of the tyrants of an- 
tiquity. Knowledge may be accordingly desired as an instru- 
ment of power. 

The pleasure which attends the communication of know- 
ledge may result from our love of power. The conveyer of 
a mere article of intelligence feels himself superior, on this 
account, to his auditors. He possesses power over them, 
power to awaken curiosity, to excite fear, to kindle joy or 
transport. 

The gift of eloquence may also be desired on the same prin- 
ciple ; for " in no case," says Dr. Dewar, u is the power of 
man over man more wonderful, and in general more envia- 
ble, than in the influence which the orator exercises over the 
thoughts and passions of a great multitude ; while, without the 
force or the splendor of rank, he moves their will, and bends 
iheir desire to the accomplishment of his own purpose. This 
is a power far more elevated than that which only reaches to 
the bodies of men ; it extends to the affections and intentions 
of the heart, and seems as if it were capable of arresting the 
trains of our ideas, and of awakening or creating the feelings 
that are suited to its designs. The conscious possession of a 
power so vast, and so peculiar, is accompanied with a degree 
of pleasure proportionally great, and it may be supposed that 
the pleasure will prompt to the frequent exercise of the supe- 
riority from whence it springs. "f 

Rank, and elevated station, may also be desired on the same 
principle, for they confer the power " of forcing obedience 
even upon the reluctant, and, in many cases, of winning obe- 
dience, from that blind respect which the multitude are always 
sufficiently disposed to feel for the follies, as for the virtues, 
of those above them." When the desire of power assumes 
this shape, it takes the name of ambition ; — a word which, lo- 

* VoL iil p. 448. f Vol. i. p. 421. 



324 CLASS III. DESIRE, 

gether with the state of mind indicated by it, is most unpopu- 
lar; because, in thinking of ambition, " we dwell on the great 
and visible desolations to which, in a few striking cases, it 
gives rise, — when the ambitious man has the power of leading 
armies, and forcing nations to be slaves, and of achieving all 
that iniquity which the audacious heart of man may have had 
the guilt and folly of considering as greatness." It is, how- 
ever, of great importance to remember the remarks of Dr. 
Brown. " We forget or neglect, merely because they are 
less striking than those rare evils, the immediate beneficial 
influence which the passion is constantly exercising in the 
conduct of the humbler individuals, whose power, under the 
preventive guardianship of laws, is limited to actions that 
scarcely can fail to be of service to the community. All the 
works of human industry are, in a great measure, referable to 
an ambition of some sort ; that, however humble it may seem 
to minds of prouder views, is yet relatively as strong as the 
ambition of the proudest. We toil, that we may have some 
little influence, or some little distinction, however small the 
number of our inferiors may be ; and the toils which raise to 
the petty distinction, are toils of public, though humble utility ; 
and even the means of distinction which the opulent possess, 
are chiefly in the support of those who, but for the pride which 
supports them, while it seems only to impose on them the 
luxury of ministering to all the various wants of their luxury, 
would have little to hope from a charity that might not be easy 
to be excited by the appearance of mere suffering, in those 
slight and ordinary degrees, in which it makes its appeal rather 
to the heart than to the senses. It is this slight influence of 
the passion, contributing to general happiness, where general 
happiness is not even an object of thought, which it is most de- 
lightful to trace ; and it is an influence which is felt in every 
place, at every moment, while the ravages of political ambition, 
desolating as they may be in their tempestuous violence, pass 
away, and give place to a prosperity like that which they seem- 
ed wholly to overwhelm — a prosperity which, as the result of 
innumerable labors, and, therefore, of innumerable wishes that 
have prompted these labors, rises again, and continues through 
a long period of years, by the gentler influence of those very 
principles to which before it owed its destruction."* 

These remarks may assist us in forming an estimate of the 
moral aspect of this desire. Power may be an instrument of 

* Vol. iii. pp. 4G3-4. 



THE DESIRE OP POWER* " 325 

great good, and has, therefore, been rendered directly delight- 
ful to the mind. It follows from hence, that the desire of 
power is not in itself positively wrong. I say positively, be- 
cause it may be negatively wrong, when it is not so per se» 
The desire of food is an original feeling, and, consequently, 
like all our native feelings, possesses in itself no more moral 
character than the instinctive attachment of brutes. No moral 
approbation can accordingly be awarded to the act of taking 
food, unless the object of the person who partakes of it be to 
strengthen him for the labors and duties to which he is called. 
Yet, even when this intention does not exist, the disapproba- 
tion of the act, which must arise in minds of exalted virtue, is 
excited not by what is, but by what is not. The moral error 
is one of defect. It is so also with reference to the desire of 
power. Power should be desired for the sake of that good 
which it may be rendered the instrument of securing. There 
can be no virtuous desire of power when this higher object is 
disregarded, and the feeling becomes positively sinful in cases 
where power is sought with a view to the attainment of an end 
which it is not lawful to pursue. 

The desire of wealth is usually regarded as a particular mo- 
dification of the love of power. Wealth gives us power to se- 
cure the voluntary services of others, and to obtain all that 
those services can procure for ns. The ultimate object of de- 
sire, in this case, has accordingly been stated to be the power 
which wealth thus confers upon us. It is probably more ac- 
curate, however, to say that the gratifications which this power 
enables us to secure, constitute the ultimate object of the de- 
sire, rather than the power itself. The love of wealth is mani- 
festly not an original principle. Wealth is not desired, like 
knowledge, for its own sake ; " for a mass of gold does not 
possess more essential value, or much more essential value, 
than a mass of iron. It derives its value from the command 
over the labor of others, or the actual possessions of others, 
which it is capable of transferring to every one into whose 
hands it may pass ; or from the distinction which the posses- 
sion of what is rare, ar*d universally desired, confers. 

In the case of the miser, however, the ultimate object of 
desire is thought to be the wealth itself. He does not employ 
it as an instrument in securing those enjoyments in relation 
to which alone wealth has any value. " The mere gold is 
desired, as if it were a source of every happiness ; when 
every happiness which it truly affords is despised, as if of little 
value, compared with that which derives from its power over 

28* 



326 CLASS III. — DESIRE. 

the very enjoyments that are [despised, all the absolute value 
that it possesses." 

44 The common theory of the value attached by the miser 
to the mere symbol of enjoyment is, that the symbol, by the 
influence of the general laws of association, becomes represen- 
tative of the enjoyment itself. We have so frequently consider- 
ed money as that which affords us various pleasures, that the 
value which we attach to the pleasures themselves, is trans- 
ferred to that which we know will always produce them, when 
exchanged for the enjoyment." 

Now, it cannot be denied, I imagine, that this theory is open 
to the objection of Dr. Brown, viz. that while it sufficiently 
shows how all men come to attach value to money, it does not 
explain the fact that some men are led to attach peculiar value 
to it. It would seem to prove indeed, that all men must ulti- 
mately become misers. Dissatisfied, on this account, with the 
common theory, Dr. B. founds the passion of the miser, not on 
the pleasing association of enjoyment, but on an associated 
painful feeling of regret. Many of the enjoyments which mo- 
ney purchases, perish with the moment of their acquisition ; 
while the money that procured them is still in being. The cake 
of the school-boy is soon devoured ; its value has wholly ceas- 
ed ; but the money which he gave for it is still in existence, 
and would have remained his own if the cake had not been 
purchased. He thinks of the penny as existing now — and ex- 
isting without any thing which he can oppose as an equivalent 
to it ; and the feeling of regret that he has parted with it arises. 
This feeling of regret will be suggested by every conception 
of expense, — will be heightened by the recollection of all that 
the money might have purchased, but which is now beyond his 
reach, as well as by other considerations, — till avarice, at 
length, takes full possession of his heart. 

Did the statements of Dr. Brown proceed no further, they 
would manifestly be exposed to the same difficulty with the 
common theory. But he goes on to show that the different 
manner in which money is spent, in early life, may lay a foun- 
dation for the different emotions with which it is ultimately 
contemplated. When, in return for the money expended, no- 
thing substantial or permanent has been gained, this feeling of 
regret, the germ of avarice, is likely to arise. On the other 
hand, when something has been purchased which retains a per- 
manent value, the feeling is less likely to arise ; and the plea- 
sure derived from the purchase, during its permanent posses- 
sion, will accustom the purchaser to value money only as the 



DESIRE OF ESTEEM, &c. 327 

instrument of what he feels to be valuable. I have, I acknow- 
ledge, some doubts whether a reference to fact will altogether 
bear out the statements of Dr. Brown ; but I cannot withhold 
my admiration from the singular beauty and ingenuity of many 
of his subsequent remarks upon the subject. 

DESIRE OF THE ESTEEM AND LOVE OF OTHERS. 

Under this head I include the love of fame, for it grows out 
of the desire of esteem, and is not essentially distinct from it. 
That the emotion itself constitutes one of the original suscep- 
tibilities of the mind — or that the Creator of the mind has ren- 
dered the esteem and love of others naturally grateful to us, it 
were a waste of time to stop to prove. Nor is it more neces- 
sary to specify the various ways in which the emotion is deve- 
loped. My remarks shall, therefore, be confined to the moral 
aspect of this desire. Constituting then, as jt does, a part of 
our moral nature, it is impossible that it can be evil per se. Dr. 
Brown thinks that, unless in cases when it becomes improper 
from excess, it must on this account be virtuous per se ; so 
that when a man desires and seeks the esteem and approbation 
of others for its own sake, he feels and acts virtuously. If this 
were conceded, however, it would follow that true virtue may 
be predicated of an individual when he experiences hunger, or 
desires to enjoy the flavor of a peach. 

The moral character of this emotion must, then, be deter- 
mined by the ultimate object, on account of which we desire 
the esteem and love of others. If we seek it as an important 
instrument of good, it is both lawful and commendable. But 
if, on the contrary, we pursue it to gratify our pride, as the 
means of doing evil; or even if we desire it for its own sake 
merely ; the moralist who takes the high tone and ground of di- 
vine revelation must pronounce it morally wrong. "Take 
heed," said our Savior, " that ye do not your alms before 
men, to be seen of them ; otherwise ye have no reward of 
your Father which is in heaven." 

It has been well observed, that when the desire of the es- 
teem and love of others is pursued as an ultimate object, it 
disinclines the heart from following the course to which higher 
motives tovirtue would lead. The individual under its con- 
trol may have no objection to the authority of heaven as a 
rule of action, when it happens to correspond in any point 
with his inclinations ; but, when it departs from this point of 
accidental union, the authority is overlooked and disregarded. 



328 THE DESIRE OF SUPERIORITY, 

Yet, though I dare not pronounce the desire of the esteem 
or approbation of others, for its own sake, to be positively vir- 
tuous, I freely acknowledge that it is the means of preventing 
much evil. "The mere love of reputation," says one, " when 
the standard of morality is somewhat elevated, will produce 
much of that regularity of conduct which is conducive to the 
order and happiness of society. "■ — " A man that is not quite 
abandoned, must behave so in society as to preserve some de- 
gree of reputation. This every man desires to do, and the 
greater part actually do. In order to this, he must acquire 
the habit of restraining his appetites and passions within the 
bounds which common decency requires, and so as to make 
himself a tolerable member of society, if not an useful and 
agreeable one. It cannot be doubted that many, from a re- 
gard to character and the opinion of others, are led to make 
themselves useful and agreeable members of society, over 
whom a sense of duty exerts but a small influence."* In the 
same strain, though not quite so evangelically, writes an elo- 
quent French author, " the greater number of men, weak by 
the frailties and inconsistencies of their nature, require a sup- 
port. The desire of reputation, coming in aid of their too 
weak sense of duty, binds them to that virtue which otherwise 
they might quit. They would dare, perhaps, to blush to them- 
selves ; they would fear to blush before their nation, and their 
age." 

THE DESIRE OF SUPERIORITY, OR THE PRINCIPLE OF 
EMULATION. 

Some philosophers regard the desire of superiority as not 
distinct from the desire of power. " We cannot," they say, 
11 have the superiority over others with whom we compare 
ourselves, without possessing some degree of power over 
them. Superiority is not any thing else but power, and the 
pleasure which arises from the consciousness of being supe- 
rior to others, is the same, in kind and degree, with that which 
arises from our conscious possession of power." 

I am disposed to question the accuracy of the preceding 
statement. That superiority frequently confers power, and is, 
indeed, generally perhaps connected with it, is conceded ; but 
it does not appear to me that the two things are identical. 
Oue man may be superior in humility to another, but what 

* De war's Moral Philosophy, vol. i. p. 415. 



OR THE PRINCIPLE OF EMULATION. 329 

power over him does this superiority confer? Or rather, how 
does it appear that this superiority is power ? The love of dis- 
tinction, as distinction, appears to me a distinct susceptibility 
of mind from the love of power. A man may desire distinc- 
tion without thinking of the power with which it is usually 
conected. 

It is of great importance not to confound the desire of su- 
periority, or emulation, with envy. Emulation aims merely to 
surpass others ; envy to deprive them of certain advantages 
that we may attain this superiority. Emulation may exist 
amongst those who are united in the most cordial friendship. 
Envy cannot ; because envy involves in it a malevolent affec- 
tion. It is the wishing of evil to others ; though evil to them is 
only desired as the means of attaining superiority over them. 
" Emulation," says Dr. Butler, " is merely the desire of supe- 
riority over others with whom we compare ourselves. To de- 
sire the attainment of this superiority, by the particular means 
of others being brought down below our own level, is the par- 
ticular notion of envy. From whence it is easy to see that the 
real end which the natural passion emulation, and which the 
unlawful one envy, aims at, is exactly the same ; and, conse- 
quently, that to do mischief is not the end of envy, but merely 
the means it makes use of to attain its end." 

The following distinction between jealousy and envy is 
worth attention. " The malevolent affection with which some 
unfortunate minds are ever disposed to view those whom they 
consider as competitors, is denominated jealousy, when the 
competitor, or supposed competitor, is one who has not yet at- 
tained their height, and when it is the future that is dreaded. 
It is denominated envy, when it regards some actual attain- 
ment of another. But the emotion, varying with this mere dif- 
ference of the present and the future, is the same in every other 
respect. In both cases, the wish is a wish of evil — a wish of 
evil to the excellent — and a wish which, by a sort of anticipated 
retribution, is itself evil to the heart that has conceived it."* 

The principle of emulation is not, then, contaminated by 
any desire of evil to others. It is not, accordingly, evil per se. 
It cannot be so, because it is one of the original susceptibili- 
ties of the mind. Neither is it good per se. It is impossible to 
grant that one original propensity, developed by its appropriate 
object, is, on that account, virtuous, without making a similar 
concession in favor of all, — a concession which would lead 

* Brown, vol. iii. p. 549. 



330 THE DESIRE OF SUPERIORITY. 

into interminable difficulties. Nor does the moral aspect of 
this emotion depend altogether upon the nature of that in which 
we desire to excel. The desire of superiority, in relation even 
to Christian attainments, merely as superiority, could such a 
desire possibly exist, would not be a virtuous desire. To in- 
vest it with the character of virtue, the emotion must be excit- 
ed by the moral excellence, or holiness itself. This desire is 
a very important part of our mental constitution. As a natural 
feeling merely, it has nothing in it of the nature of true virtue ; 
but, under the influence and direction of higher principles, it 
may be rendered the instrument of much good. 

It has become a question, how far it is right to take the ad- 
vantage of an appeal to this part of our mental constitution in 
conducting the education of children. On the one hand, it is 
said that little good can be effected without such an "appeal ; 
it is alledged, on the other, that by making that appeal, we at- 
tempt to influence the child by a motive which does not pos- 
sess the nature of true virtue, and^are in danger of stimulating, 
to a very alarming degree, a principle which needs to be kept 
in subjection. It is of importance, I apprehend, to remember, 
in this controversy, that in the business of education'we have, 
in most cases, only mere natural principles to which we can 
appeal — that if it be wrong, for the reasons specified above, to 
avail ourselves of the principle of emulation, it is difficult to see 
how it can be right to avail ourselves of the principles of fear, 
shame, &c. If a child does what is right, merely through fear of 
disgrace, or punishment, or because the tutor, or the parent, 
commands it, I freely acknowledge that, on the principles of the 
New Testament, there is nothing of true virtue in his conduct ; 
but are we not, on this account, to threaten, or command ? The 
proper method seems to be, to avail ourselves of every natural 
propensity which can afford aid in the mental and moral discipline 
of the young — to bring the powerful motives supplied by the 
principles of shame, fear, emulation, to bear upon them ; but 
to teach them, at the same time, that they must be influenced 
by higher motives, in order to obtain the approbation of God. 



THE 



ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE 



The main object of the preceding part of this volume has 
been to ascertain and exhibit the nature, or, what we may call, 
the physical properties of the mind — to describe its original 
susceptibilities and powers — -the varied states of thought and 
feeling which it has been formed by its Creator capable of ex- 
periencing — the elements of the more complex phsenomena — 
the circumstances and occasions on which they arise, or the 
laws which regulate their occurrence and succession. 

Mental Philosophy then, properly so called, constitutes one 
branch of Physical Science. The mind is a substance, not, 
indeed, visible and tangible like gold, but still a substance ; 
i, e. something subsisting, or something to which existence has 
been imparted by the power of the great source of being. And 
it is the business of the intellectual philosopher to inquire into 
the properties of the substance mind, as the student in natural 
science inquires into the properties of the substance matter. 
To this point our efforts have hitherto been exclusively, or all 
but exclusively, directed. 

There is, however, another very important inquiry to be in- 
stituted. Having ascertained the original susceptibilities of the 
mind, there still remains the question which regards the recti- 
tude of the actual feelings, which, in individual cases, grow out 
of these original susceptibilities. For though few things can 
be more certain, than that no feeling which the mind has been 
formed to experience, can be evil per se, it is not a legitimate 
consequence of this statement that, in every case of its occur- 
rence, it must be a right feeling. The mind has been rendered 
susceptible, for instance, of the feeling of anger. Anger can- 
not, therefore, be evil per se • yet as it may become so through 



332 THE RECTITUDE OF PARTICULAR FEELINGS 

misdirection, excess, &c. we cannot pronounce upon its blame- 
less character, in any particular instance, without examination. 
Even philosophers, who do not perhaps admit the moral pravity 
of human nature, are aware of this distinction between what is, 
and what ought to be. Thus accurately speaks Dr. Brown : 
" Though our intellectual analysis were perfect, so that we 
could distinguish, in our most complex thought or emotion, its 
constituent elements, and trace with exactness the series of 
simpler thoughts which have progressively given rise to them, 
other inquiries, equally or still more important, would remain. 
We do not know all that is to be known of the mind, when we 
know all itsiiphsenomena, — as we know all that can be known 
of matter, when we know the appearances which it presents, 
in every situation in which it is possible to place it, and the 
manner in which it then acts, or is acted upon by other bodies. 
When we know that man has certain affections and passions, 
there still remains the great inquiry as to the propriety or im- 
propriety of those passions, and of the conduct to which they 
lead. We have to consider not merely how he is capable of 
acting/ but also, whether, acting in the manner supposed, he 
would be fulfilling a duty or perpetrating a crime."* 

The Rev. J. Gilbert, in his Memoirs of the late Dr. Wil- 
liams, of Rotherham, repeats with apparent acquiescence a 
charge of overlooking this distinction, which had been pre- 
ferred by the latter gentleman against the northern metaphy- 
sicians. " He regarded," says Mr. G. " the science of morals 
as in a very imperfect degree understood, for which in the com- 
mencement of the work he assigns a variety of causes. He 
thought in particular," proceeds Mr. G. '* that the method of 
induction alone, as proposed by the Scotch professors of the 
philosophy of mind, could never produce a result capable of 
supplying adequate grounds for the formation of a satisfactory 
system of morals. "f In support of this general statement, 
Mr. G. himself says, " By induction from particular observa- 
tion of what transpires in our own minds, we may indeed as- 
certain that we are accountable — but we cannot arrive at a 
true knowledge of the nature of virtue and vice, or of their re- 
spective sources. The very supposition that such a method 
of constructing a true moral philosophy can possibly succeed, 
must assume that the inquirer is, in fact, a perfect being — that 
what ought to be, and what is, are in him the same thing. How 
else, by any examination of his thoughts, feelings, volitions, 

♦ Vol.i. n. 9. tP. 588. 



MUST BE EXAMINED. 333 

and actions, can he ascertain the rule of requirement, the gene- 
ral law of rectitude?"* 

The correctness of the latter statement is admitted. It is, 
in truth, the very statement of Dr. Brown; and Mr. Gilbert, 
in justice to this distinguished writer, ought to have adverted 
to this fact. I admit, indeed, that Dr. Brown sometimes writes, 
on the subject of morals, as though he had practically forgot- 
ten his own statements ; but no evidence can be more conclu- 
sive than that which is afforded by the passage I have quoted, 
that, when the subject was before the view of his mind, he saw 
with perfect clearness the important distinction which exists 
between what is, and what ought to be, in human feeling and 
conduct. 

And no person, it is conceived, who admits the statements 
of Scripture, in reference to the moral pravity of human na- 
ture, can forget this distinction. For though the fall of man 
effected no change in the original susceptibilities of the mind — 
though it created none, and extinguished none, it perverted all. 
It brought a cloud over the understanding which affects our 
moral perceptions ; so that, till it is dispelled by supernatural 
influence, the susceptibility of love is frequently developed by 
that which is evil, and the susceptibility of hatred by that which 
is good. 

It becomes, accordingly, necessary to devote a little time 
to the investigation of what ought to be in man ; — having 
shown how he is capable of acting, to consider, as Dr. Brown 
says, " whether, acting in the manner supposed, he would be 
fulfilling a duty, or perpetrating a crime." 

To conduct this investigation, so as to lead to a satisfactory 
result, it is obviously necessary to ascertain what is the proper 
standard of rectitude, in reference to human affections and 
conduct. The term Rectitude necessarily supposes a balance 
in which moral actions may be weighed, or a rule by which 
they are to be measured. What is this rule? This question, 
which is comprehensive of almost every inquiry that can be 
presented on the subject of morals, is generally conceived to 
resolve itself into two, viz. What is rectitude ? and, What is 
the measure or standard of rectitude? Or, according to an- 
other mode of statement, adopted by some, What is the nature 
— and what the criterion of virtue ? It is, in the opinion of 
many writers, of great importance to preserve this distinction. 
*' In this controversy," says one, " we often meet with much 

* P. 589. 
29 



334 WHAT IS RECTITUDE ? 

needless discussion, owing, in a great measure, to different 
senses attached to terms of a similar import. Thus the word 
Test, or Criterion, is sometimes applied to that which consti- 
tutes virtue, instead of being confined to that by which it is 
ascertained. In the same way, the term Standard of virtue 
has been confounded with the foundation of virtue." In strict 
accuracy, however, the question proposed above is one only ; 
for that which renders an action right, is the ultimate, i. e. the 
true criterion of its being so. If an action be morally right y 
for instance, because it is conformed to the law of God, the 
divine law must, of course, be the standard of moral rectitude. 
It is, however, perfectly conceivable that, of this ultimate 
standard, whatever it may be, we may not, in all cases, be 
able to avail ourselves. We may find ourselves compelled to 
employ a measure nearer at hand, so to speak, a measure 
which may prove an action to be right, though it does not ren- 
der it so. It will probably, therefore, be expedient to proceed 
in our inquiries, as if the question, to which reference has been 
made, really involved the two perfectly separate and distinct 
inquiries, viz. What is rectitude ?— and, What is the standard 
of rectitude 1 Our first question then is, 

WHAT IS RECTITUDE I 

The general doctrine, in relation to this important topic? 
which I shall endeavor to establish, is the following ; viz. that 
the term Rectitude denotes some actual quality in actions — 
or that there is an essential distinction between right and 
wrong. In what rectitude actually consists, I shall afterwards 
state ; my object, at present, is to support this general doc- 
trine ; — an object which will, perhaps, be best attained by in- 
stituting an examination of various statements which are di- 
rectly opposed to it, and by exhibiting it in the light of con- 
trast with them as we proceed. The general assertion of an 
essential difference between right and wrong is, then, I ob- 
serve, 

I. At variance with the statements of those sceptical philo- 
sophers who maintain that the term rectitude merely denotes 
that conduct which happens to be sanctioned by the customs, 
or laws, of the country, or the age, in which we live. This 
sceptical doctrine is founded on the different moral estimate 
which is formed of the same action, in various countries and 
ages. In Sparta, theft was permitted by law, and, when undis- 
covered, viewed with approbation 5 in England, it is execrated, 



THEORY OF THE SCEPTICS. 335 

•and punished. In some countries, the aged have been aban- 
doned, without compunction, to their fate j in Great Britain, 
they are honored and cherished. 

Upon a few isolated facts of this description the pernicious 
doctrine has been built, that actions have no moral character — 
that we have only u a few casual prejudices, which we have 
chosen to call virtue — prejudices which a slight difference of 
opinion might have reversed, making the lover of mankind 
odious to us, and giving all our regard to the robber and the 
murderer." 

To overthrow this pernicious doctrine, nothing more is ne- 
cessary than to refer to the general agreement, in the moral 
judgments of men, which, after every allowance has been made 
for the difference of opinion referred to above, will be found to 
exist. With some trifling diversity — adiversity for which it is by 
no means difficult to account — there is a great, and general, and 
remarkable uniformity. For one, who views theft, and infan- 
ticide, and parricide, without detestation, we can point to thou- 
sands, and tens of thousands, who cannot revert to them, even 
in thought, without the warmest feelings of moral abhorrence. 
And this fact, as we have said, completely overturns the scep- 
tical doctrine. Because — for such must be the language of 
the objector if he adhere to truth and fact — in one case out 
of five hundred, or five thousand, there exists a difference of 
judgment, in reference to moral actions, actions have no moral 
character. It is surely sufficient to reply, Because, in the re- 
maining five hundred, or five thousand, there is an agreement, 
actions have a moral character. If his argument has any 
weight, ours must have weight ; for they rest on the same 
basis, viz. that the moral judgments of men may be regarded 
us evidence of the moral character of actions. And the argu- 
ment, if it be allowed at all, throws much greater weight into 
•our scale than into his. The general rule is with 4 us, the ex- 
ceptions with him. The moral judgments of men — of the race 
at large — are on our side of the question ; the moral judgments 
of a/eio only on his. The probability certainly is, that the cor- 
rect judgment is with the many ; the mistaken one, with the 
few. Were an individual to call an object black, which all 
other men considered scarlet, we should instantly decide, not 
surely that its color was not scarlet, but that the eyes of the 
observer were the subjects of disease. The application of the 
illustration is easy. Individual approbation of theft, infanticide, 
parricide, &c. does not disprove them to be crimes of a crim- 
son hue ; it shows merely that the judgment — the moral eye 



336 THE NATURE OF RECTITUDE. 

of the observer — is diseased. " Our taste," says Dr. Brown, 
" distinguishes what is sweet and what is bitter — we prefer one 
to the other. Who is there who denies that there is, in the 
original capability of the infant, a tendency to certain pre- 
ferences of this kind ? Yet in the luxury of other years, there 
are culinary preparations which the taste of some approves, 
while the taste of others rejects them. If the morals of differ- 
ent nations differed half as much as the cookery of different na- 
tions, we might allow some cause for disbelief of all the natural 
distinctions of right and wrong. But what sceptic is there who 
contends, from the approbation which one nation gives to a 
sauce, or a ragout, which almost sickens him, that the sweet 
does not naturally differ from the bitter, as more agreeable, 
the aromatic from the insipid ; and that, to the infant, sugar, 
wormwood, spice, are, as sources of pleasure, essentially the 
same ?"* 

The theory of Hobbes is a modification of the sceptical phi- 
losophy on which we have been animadverting. That philo- 
sophy, as we have seen, not only regards actions as devoid 
originally of any moral character, but as permanently remain- 
ing so — the moral estimates we form of actions being mere 
prejudices — so that, in fact, there is no such thing as virtue 
and vice in the world. Hobbes, however, though he contends 
for the original moral indifference of actions, admits that legal 
enactment may give, and, indeed, does give them, a moral 
character. That which is commanded, becomes virtue through 
the influence of law, though it was not so before ; and disobe- 
dience is, accordingly, not to be regarded as imprudence, or 
disobedience merely, but as actual immorality. It is impos- 
sible to conceive of a more complete and triumphant answer 
to this dogma, than that which has been given by Drs. Brown 
and Cudworth. " A law, if there be no moral obligation in- 
dependent of the law, and prior to it, is only the expression of 
the desire of a multitude who have power to punish, that is to 
say, to inflict evil of some kind on those who resist them — it 
may be imprudent, therefore, to resist them ; that is to say, 
imprudent to run the risk of that precise quantity of physical 
suffering which is threatened ; but it can be nothing more. If 
there be no essential morality that is independent of law, an 
action does not acquire any new qualities by being the desire 
of a thousand persons rather than of one. There may be more 
danger, indeed, in disobeying a thousand than in disobeying 

* Vol. iii. p. 605. 



NOT FOUNDED IN THE WILL OF GOD. 337 

■one, but not more guilt. To use Dr. Cudworth's argument, 
it must either be right to obey the law, and wrong to disobey 
it, or indifferent whether we obey it or not. If it be morally 
indifferent whether we obey it or not, the law, which may or 
may not be obeyed with equal virtue, cannot be a source of 
virtue ; and if it be right to obey it, the very supposition that 
it is right to obey it, implies a notion of right and wrong that 
is antecedent to the law, and gives it its moral efficacy. 

" A sovereign," it has been truly said, " may enact and re- 
scind laws ; but he cannot create or rescind a single virtue." 
It is impossible for him " to reverse the feelings of moral ap- 
probation and disapprobation with which we contemplate the 
conduct of men." Our moral judgments are not, then, the 
result of political enactment. They flow from another source. 
They are, as we have seen, remarkably uniform ; — a fact 
which is easily accounted for on the supposition that there js 
an essential difference between right and wrong, which we are 
formed as capable of perceiving as the difference which exists 
between truth and falsehood, but which must be wholly inex- 
plicable on any other system. 

II. The assertion of an essential difference between right 
and wrong is at variance with the sentiments of those who 
maintain that rectitude is founded solely in the will or com- 
mand of God. The two words, will and command, are used 
as synonymous here, because the commands of God are the 
expression of his will. It is not denied indeed, and this should 
be most carefully observed — that the will of God, when ascer- 
tained, must be, in all cases, a most perfect measure of virtue ; 
nor that it may, in some cases, if not in all, be the most conve- 
nient measure. I wish, also, further to guard the reader against 
supposing that any thing which may be said on this point is 
intended to oppose the sentiment, (whether it be a correct one 
or not, I do not now stop to inquire,) that the nature of God is 
the foundation of virtue. All that is meant is, that we must 
look to something more ultimate, so to speak, not, indeed, as 
the standard, but as the foundation of virtue. 

One would think that any dispute upon this subject might be 
very easily settled. The question is simply this : " Is an ac- 
tion right because God commanded it? Or did God command 
it because it is right ?" It is to me, I acknowledge, most won- 
derful that any doubt should, have existed whether the latter 
part of this dilemma exhibits the true state of the case ; for if 
an action be right because God commanded it, it follows, 

First, That it has no rectitude in itself. Its rectitude, by 
29* 



338 THE NATURE OF RECTITUDE. 

supposition, is communicated by the will or command of God ; 
and as no being who has life in himself can have life commu- 
nicated, so no action which has rectitude in itself can have 
rectitude communicated. And if rectitude be thus communi- 
cated to actions, i. e. if they are virtuous, and vicious, only be- 
cause God willed that they should be so, then vice is in itself 
just as excellent as virtue, and virtue just as worthless as vice. 
" Let me ask," says Dr. Dwight, " can any man believe this 
to be true ?" 

Secondly, That God willed virtue to be excellent without 
any reason. The rectitude or virtue is consequent upon the di- 
vine will. It did not precede it ; it did not accompany it ; and 
could not, therefore, have been the cause of the volition. "And 
if virtue, and vice, had originally, and as they are seen by the 
eye of God, no moral difference in their nature; then there 
was plainly no reason why God should prefer, or why he actu- 
ally preferred, one of them to the other. There was, for ex- 
ample, no reason why he chose, and required, that intelligent 
creatures should love him, and each other, rather than that they 
should hate him and hate each other. In choosing and requir- 
ing that they should exercise this love, God acted, therefore, 
without any motive whatever. " Certainly," says Dwight, " no 
sober man will attribute this conduct to God."* 

Thirdly , If rectitude is founded on the will of God, it follows 
that he might have commanded what he now prohibits, and 
have prohibited what he now commands. If he willed virtue 
to be excellent without any reason, and actually rendered it 
virtue by so willing it, (which is the case by supposition,) then 
he might have willed vice to be excellent, and it would have 
become virtue by the volition. To borrow the strong language 
of Dr. Dwight — -" If he had willed the character which Satan 
adopted, and sustains, to be moral excellence, and that which 
Gabriel sustains to be moral worthlessness, these two beings, 
continuing in every other respect the same, would have inter- 
changed their characters ; Satan would have become entirely 
lovely, and Gabriel entirely detestable. Must not he who can 
believe this doctrine, as easily believe that, if God had willed 
it, two and two would have become five ? Is it at all easier to 
believe that truth and falsehood can interchange their natures, 
than that a square and a triangle can interchange theirs V 1 

Fourthly, If rectitude has its foundation in the will of God, 
the distinction which is always conceived to exist between 

* System of Theology, Sermon 99. 



THEORY OP HUTCHESON. 339 

moral duties and positive enactments must be abandoned. 
Were it conceded, as the sentiment we oppose asserts, that an 
action is right because God commands it, and wrong because 
He forbids it, it would follow that the prohibition of the " tree 
of knowledge of good and evil," and the prohibition of murder 
and idolatry, gave the same character to the conduct forbidden. 
Previous to the command, there was no more sin in the one 
case than in the other ; and after the command, there must 
have been an equal measure of sin in both. A positive pre- 
cept, and a moral duty, are words without meaning, unless it 
be conceded that the latter denotes an action which was com- 
manded because it was right, and the former an action which 
became right by being commanded. 

III. The assertion of an essential difference between right 
and wrong, is opposed to those statements which represent 
rectitude as depending upon the arbitrary constitution of the 
human mind. There are three forms of this latter opinion which 
it will be necessary to notice ; viz. the theories of Hutcheson, 
Adam Smith, and Dr. Brown. From the latter of these philo- 
sophers it pains me greatly to be obliged to differ so materially ; 
but I am constrained to think, that, on the subject of morals, 
he is less to be trusted as a guide, than on any other part of 
his course. I trust I shall be able to show that his own rules 
of philosophizing overturn his own system of morals. At all 
events, the reader shall have an opportunity of judging between 
us. A victory over Dr. Brown, for the sake of the triumph, is 
one of the very last things I should desire. I greatly honor his 
talents — his character — his memory ; but truth is dearer to 
me than any system, or any man. 

The theories to which I have referred have some features in 
common, and some common objections may be urged against 
them ; yet the defects and mistakes of each, as they appear to 
me at least, are so far special, as to render it desirable to con- 
sider them separately. 

To account for the origin of our ideas of right and wrong, 
Dr. Hutcheson supposes that God has endowed us with what 
he calls " a moral sense," meaning, by this phrase, a power 
within us different from reason, which renders certain actions 
pleasing, and certain others displeasing to us. Through the 
medium of the external senses, certain flavors and odors, &c. 
become the sources of pleasure to us : by means of the moral 
sense, in like manner, certain affections and actions of moral 
agents excite moral approbation and disapprobation, leading 
to the formation of moral judgments. 



340 THE NATURE OP RECTITUDE. 

If Dr. Hutcheson had been contented with saying, as Dr. 
Brown had done, that certain actions awaken, when contem- 
plated, vivid emotions of approval or disgust, his scheme would 
have been intelligible at any rate, but it would not have an- 
swered the end he had in view. He wished to account for the 
origin of our notions of right and wrong, which he would not 
have conceived himself to have done, by merely showing how 
approbation and disapprobation arise. It was necessary to 
call in the aid of a moral sense ; and then, as the philosophy 
of the times taught that, by means of the external senses, we 
gain perceptions or ideas,as they were called, as well as sensa- 
tions, it seemed to follow that, by the medium of the moral 
sense, we may gain, so to speak, moral sensations and moral 
perceptions — or ideas of right and wrong. 

Upon this scheme an excellent writer thus remarks : "Our 
ideas of morality, if this account is just, have the same origin 
with our ideas of the sensible qualities of bodies, the harmony 
of sound, or the beauties of painting and sculpture ; that is, 
the mere good pleasure of our Maker, adapting the mind and 
its organs in a particular manner to certain objects. Virtue is 
an affair of taste. Moral right and wrong signify nothing in 
the objects themselves to which they are applied, any more 
than agreeable and harsh, sweet and bitter, pleasant and pain- 
ful, but only certain effects in us. Our perceptions of right, 
or moral good in actions, is that agreeable emotion, or feeling, 
which certain actions produce in us ; and of wrong, or moral 
evil, the contrary. They are particular modifications of our 
minds, or impressions which they are ready to receive from 
the contemplation of certain actions, which the contrary ac- 
tions might have occasioned, had the Author of Nature so 
pleased ; and which to suppose to belong to these actions 
themselves, is as absurd as to ascribe the pleasure or uneasi- 
ness which the observation of a particular form gives us, to the 
form itself. It is, therefore, by this account, improper to say 
of an action that it is right, in much the same sense that it is 
improper to say of an object of taste, that it is sweet ; or of 
pain, that it is in the fire."* 

I agree with Mr. Stewart, in thinking that all these conse- 
quences — sceptical conclusions as he calls them — do not le- 
gitimately follow from this statement of Hutcheson. No part 
of that statement justifies the charge of Dr. Price, that, on this 
theory, moral right and wrong signify nothing in the objects 

* Vide Price on Morals, pp. 10, 11. 



THEORY OF DR. ADAM SMITH. 34l 

themselves to which they are applied. The analogy from 
sensual affections to which Dr. Price appeals, supports his 
charge only by resorting to what Mr. Stewart justly denomi- 
nates a miserable quibble — for though there is nothing in 
sugar that resembles the sensation of sweetness, there is some- 
thing in it by which that sensation is produced. In like man- 
ner, though we cannot conceive that any thing resembling the 
emotion of approbation resides in the action which awakens 
it, there must be a certain quality, or aptitude in the action to 
excite the emotion ; and this quality or aptitude, whatever it 
be, and whatever we call it, may be, on Hutcheson's princi- 
ples, the virtue of the action. 

It cannot be denied, however, that a part, at least, of Dr. 
Price's charge is true. Hutcheson's statements do certainly 
represent virtue as depending upon the arbitrary constitution 
of the mind. Had our external senses been different, our 
sensations must have been diverse from what they are at 
present. Would, then, our moral feelings and judgments re- 
main the same, were our moral sense to undergo a change ? 
How can it be pretended 1 By the present constitution of the 
mind, virtuous actions are doubtless agreeable to us. By a 
different constitution, which, for aught we know to the contra- 
ry, we might easily have received, vicious actions (i. e. as they 
are now regarded by us) might have been rendered agreeable. 
The character of Satan might have awakened emotions of ap- 
probation ; the character of God those of disapprobation ; — 
and, consequently, on his principles, our ideas of right and 
wrong must have been completely reversed. 

This objection against the doctrine of Hutcheson appears 
to me a radical and fatal one. I most perfectly agree with 
Mr. Stewart in the following sentiment, " that it is of the ut- 
most importance to remember that the words right and wrong 
express qualities of actions." "When I say," adds this wri- 
ter, " of an act of justice that it is right, do I mean merely that 
the act excites pleasure in my mind, as a particular color 
pleases my eye, in consequence of a relation which it bears 
to my organ ; or do I mean to assert a truth, which is as inde- 
pendent of my constitution as the equality of thethree angles 
of a triangle to two right angles?"* 

The theory of Dr. Adam Smith is considerably different 
from that of Hutcheson. If, on contemplating the actions of 
our fellow-men, we are able fully to sympathize with them, 

* Outlines, p. 240. 



342 THE NATURE OF RECTITUDE. 

we regard the action as right, and the agent as virtuous. If, 
on the other hand, we find the exercise of sympathy impossi- 
ble, our moral judgment is the direct reverse. When we re- 
gard our own conduct, " we in some measure reverse this 
process ; or rather, by a process still more refined, we ima- 
gine others sympathizing with us, and sympathize in their 
sympathy. We consider how our conduct would appear to 
an impartial spectator. We approve of it, if it be that of which 
we feel that he would approve ; we disapprove of it, if it be 
that which we feel, by the experience of our own former emo- 
tions, when we have ourselves in similar circumstances esti- 
mated the actions of others, would excite his disapprobation." 

Dr. Brown examines this fantastical doctrine with great 
minuteness, thus giving to it more importance than it de- 
serves. He states that sympathy is not a perpetual accom- 
paniment of every action of every one around us — that it is 
only called forth when there is in those actions which excite 
it, a display of vividness of feeling ; so that, on the theory of 
Smith, the greater part of human actions can have no moral 
character, since they awaken no sympathy. He states fur- 
ther, that, without some previous moral notions of actions as 
right or wrong, mere sympathy could communicate no ideas 
of virtue and vice. The utmost effect of sympathy is to 
identify us, so to speak, with the individual who excites it. 
Now it is supposed that this individual cannot gain, by con- 
templating his own circumstances and conduct, any notion of 
rectitude. How then, it is natural to ask, can we gain it, by 
identifying ourselves with him ? 

There is, however, I imagine, a more important objection 
against the theory of Smith, than any to which Dr. Brown has 
adverted. It obviously founds rectitude on the arbitrary con- 
stitution of the mind. The mind is so constituted that it sym- 
pathizes with certain actions ; those actions, says Dr. Smith, 
are right. Does he mean that the sympathy renders them 
virtuous — or proves them to be so 1 If he mean the latter 
merely, then the system does not exhibit the foundation of 
virtue at all. If the former, then virtue depends upon the 
constitution of the mind ; and, as it is possible for the mind 
to have been constituted differently, it might have been vir- 
tuous to lie and kill, and vicious to refrain from either ! 

The foregoing objection against this whimsical theory would 
have been valid, if man were now what he ought to be. But 
he is not. The crown of moral purity has fallen from his head. 
His judgment is beclouded — his heart is depraved ; and, in 



SYSTEM OF DR. BROWN, 343 

consequence of this circumstance, he may experience sympa- 
thy where he should feel none — and lack it, where it ought to 
be possessed. So far, then, is the theory of Dr. Smith from 
exhibiting the foundation of virtue, that it does not furnish us 
with an accurate criterion of virtue. 

The theory of Dr. Brown differs very considerably both 
from that of Smith and Hutcheson ; the precise nature, how- 
ever, of that difference will be better appreciated, after a state- 
ment of that theory has been laid before the reader. In con- 
sequence of its importance, and the remarks which I intend to 
make upon it, I shall give a fuller account of it than of the 
statements of preceding writers. 

Dr. Brown, then, begins his discussion by denying the pro- 
priety of the distinction which is usually made between a moral 
action and a moral agent — a distinction which has led to the 
common opinion, that an action may be evil, while the agent 
is virtuous, or, vice versa, that the action may be praiseworthy, 
while the agent deserves censure and condemnation. To say 
that any action which we are considering, is right or wrong, 
and to say that the person who performed it has merit or de- 
merit, are to say precisely the same thing. " An action," he 
adds, " if it be any thing more than a mere insignificant word, is 
a certain agent in certain circumstances, willing and produc- 
ing a certain effect ; and the emotion, whatever it may be* ex- 
cited by the action, is in truth, and must always be, the emo- 
tion excited by the agent, real or supposed." 

He proceeds to state that certain actions, or rather certain 
agents, in certain circumstances, excite instantly and irresistibly, 
by virtue of the constitution of the mind, the emotions of moral 
approbation — that all actions which are thus united in awakening 
this emotion, we class together, and give to them a generic name 
— that this generic name is virtue, which does not denote any 
thing self-existing, like the universal essences of the schools, 
and eternal, like the Platonic ideas — that it denotes nothing in 
itself, but is only a general name for certain actions, which 
agree in exciting, when contemplated, this emotion of appro- 
bation — that this emotion, and the contrary, are distinctive to 
us of the agent as virtuous or vicious, worthy or unworthy of 
esteem — that the emotions do not arise from processes of rea- 
sonings and regard to general rules of propriety, formed gene- 
rally by attention to the circumstances in which the mind is 
placed — that though the general rules of propriety may seem 
to confirm our suffrage, the suffrage itself is given before their 
sanction — that these rules of propriety are ultimately founded 



344 NATURE OF RECTITUDE. 

on these particular emotions ; it being the case, not that we 
originally approve or condemn particular actions, because, upon 
examination, they appear to be agreeable to, or inconsistent with, 
a certain general rule ; but that the general rule is formed, on 
the contrary, by finding, from experience, that all actions of a 
certain kind, or circumstances in a certain manner, are approv- 
ed or disapproved — that the tendency of an action, in conse- 
quence of the constitution of the mind to awaken this emotion, 
and which he calls its approvableness, is the virtue of the ac- 
tion, and that this approvableness is nothing but the relation 
of the action to the emotion — that the obligation to perform an 
action is, that if we neglect it we cannot look upon ourselves 
with approving regard, and that a man has acted virtuously, 
and has merit, who has acted in such a manner as to secure 
his regard. "Why," says he, " does it seem to us virtue to 
act in this way ? Because," he replies, " the very contempla- 
tion of the action excites in us a certain feeling of vivid appro- 
bation. It is this irresistible approvableness (if [ may use 
such a word to express briefly the relation of certain actions to 
the emotion that is instantly excited by them) which consti- 
tutes to us, who consider the action, the virtue of the action 
itself, the merit of him who performed it, the moral obligation 
on him to have performed it." 

From this abstract it appears, that the theory of Dr. Brown 
differs very materially from that of Dr. Smith. According to 
the former, certain actions directly awaken emotions of appro- 
bation or disapprobation ; and the actions are regarded as vir- 
tuous or vicious, in consequence of the relation they bear to 
these emotions. According to Dr. Smith, we do not imme- 
diately approve of certain actions, or disapprove of certain 
other actions. Before any moral sentiment arises, we must go 
through another process — that by which we enter into the feel- 
ings of others ; if we are able perfectly to sympathize with 
them, we regard their conduct as virtuous. 

From the theory of Hutcheson, that of Dr. Brown does not 
differ so widely. The latter, indeed, chiefly objects to those 
statements of Hutcheson in which he ascribes all our moral 
feelings and judgments to a " moral sense ;" for, " unless 
words," says he, " be used with little or no meaning, such 
statements imply that we have some primary medium of moral 
perception which conveys to us moral knowledge, as the eye 
enables us to distinguish directly the varieties of color, or the 
ear the varieties of sound ; whereas there is nothing in our 
moral judgments allied to sensation or perception in the philo- 



SYSTEM OF DR. BROWN. 345 

sophic meaning of these terms. " If, indeed," he adds, " sense 
were understood in this case to be synonymous with mere sus- 
ceptibility, so that when we speak of a moral sense, we were 
to be understood to mean only a susceptibility of moral feeling 
of some sort, we might be allowed to have a sense of morals ; 
because we have, unquestionably, a susceptibility of moral 
emotion ; but, in this wide extension of the term, we might be 
said, in like manner, to have as many senses as we have feel- 
ings of any sort, since, in whatever manner the mind may have 
been affected, it must have had a previous susceptibility of be- 
ing so affected, as much as in the peculiar affections that are 
denominated moral."* 

It is probable that Hutcheson employed the phrase moral 
sense, as some of our modern phrenologists have adopted the 
term organ, without taking the trouble to inquire whether he 
attached any definite signification to it. It doubtless ought to 
be discarded, since it must either be used in so lax and vague 
a manner as to convey no meaning, or in a definite sense, when 
it would convey an improper meaning. 

Dr. Brown's system is not certainly exposed to this objec- 
tion ; yet the radical fault which attaches itself to the theories 
of Hutcheson and Smith, cleaves to that of Brown ; while it 
has vices peculiar to itself. Like them, it lays the foundation 
of virtue in the arbitrary constitution of the mind. In conse- 
quence"of the possession of that constitution, certain actions 
awaken the emotions of approbation, as certain flavors* and 
odors are naturally agreeable. Now, as no one doubts that 
what is at present pleasant to the taste, &c. might have been 
rendered disagreeable ; it seems to follow, as a necessary 
consequence, that those actions which now excite approbation, 
might, with a different mental constitution, have awakened dis- 
approbation ; i. e. that virtue and vice do not essentially differ 
from each other. This, indeed, seems to be admitted by Dr. 
Brown himself; for, even while affirming the immutability of 
moral distinctions, he resolves that immutability into the con- 
stitution and unchangeableness of the mind. " Virtue," says 
he, " being a term expressive only of the relation of certain 
actions, as contemplated, to certain emotions in the minds of 
those who contemplate them, cannot, it is evident, have any 
universality beyond that of the minds in which these emotions 
arise. We speak always, therefore, relatively to the constitu- 
tion of our minds, not to what we might have been constituted 

* Vol. iv. p. 164. 
30 



S-&J THE NATURE OF RECTITUDE, 

to admire, if we had been created by a different being ; but to 
what we are constituted to admire, and what, in our present 
circumstances approving or disapproving with instant love, or 
abhorrence, it is impossible for us not to believe to be, in like 
manner, the objects of approbation or disapprobation to Him 
who has endowed us with feelings so admirably accordant with 
all those other gracious purposes which we discover in the 
economy of nature/'* 

And again : fr ' Virtue is a felt relation to certain emotions* 
and nothing more, with no other universality, therefore, than 
that of the minds in which, on the contemplation of the same 
actions, the same emotions arise. We speak always of what 
our mind is formed to admire 'or liate, not of what it might 
have been formed to estimate differently ; and the supposed 
immutability, therefore, has regard only to the existing constr- 
tution of things under that Divine Being who has formed our 
social nature as it is, and who, in thus forming it, may be con- 
sidered as marking his own approbation of that virtue which 
we love, and his own disapprobation of that vice which he has 
rendered it impossible for us not to view with indignation or 
disgust."f 

The theories both of Hutcheson and Smith do really place 
the foundation of virtue in the constitution of the mind ; it is 
peculiar, however, to Dr. Brown, as I imagine at least, to avow 
this. He admits, unless I misunderstand him, that the mind 
might have been formed capable of approving what it now dis- 
approves. And, had that been the case, vice would not only 
have appeared virtue, but would^really have been virtue ; i. e. 
on the principles of this writer, that virtue is the relation of an 
action to the feeling of approbation which it excites. To me, 
I acknowledge, the opinion, that, retaining our relation to God 
as creatures, and to each other as fellow-creatures, any change 
in the constitution of the mind could render it right to hate 
God, and each other, is so extravagant, that I know not any 
thing which could prevail upon me to embrace it. 

It has been stated that the theory of Dr. Brown has to en- 
counter objections which are peculiar, either in kind or degree, 
to itself. Some of these I proceed to mention. 

First, it supplies us with no adequate cause for the rise of 
the emotion of approbation, nor, consequently, for the origin 
of our notions of virtue. The truth of this statement will, it is 
imagined, be apparent to the reader, when he recollects the ac- 

* Vol. iii. p. 596. f Vol. iii. p 615. 



SYSTEM OF DR. BROWN. 347 

count which Dr. Broun has given of the nature of virtue. 
Virtue and vice, he tells us, denote nothing in actions them- 
selves. This is repeated in almost every form of negation, 
" Virtue is a felt relation, and nothing more." u All that we 
mean by the moral differences of actions is their tendency to 
excite one emotion rather than another." M There is no right 
nor wrong, virtue nor vice, merit nor demerit, existing inde- 
pendently of the agents who are virtuous or vicious." And, in 
like manner, he adds, " If there had been no moral emotions 
to arise on the contemplation of certain actions, there would 
have been no virtue, vice, merit or demerit, which express only 
relations to these emotions."* 

Now, let the reader especially observe that— as virtue is, on 
this system, nothing more than a relation between a certain 
action and a certain emotion, — the notion of virtue cannot 
arise till the emotion of approbation has arisen. Nothing surely 
can be more manifest than this. But, on Dr. Brown's princi- 
ples, how can the emotion of approbation arise ? If virtue be 
nothing in actions, as is so often stated, how do certain actions 
originate this emotion ? Does it not arise without a cause, un- 
less there be rectitude in the actions themselves — t. e. some 
quality or aptitude in them to awaken it ? How can we ap- 
prove, without approving something ? If virtue be not some 
quality in actions which is not universal, how comes it to pass 
that we approve some actions and not others ? Why do we not 
approve all actions alike "? Or, rather, how is it possible that 
we should approve any actions, when there is nothing in them, 
according to this theory, to approve 1 It is admitted that there 
can be nothing in any of the odoriferous particles of matter 
which resembles our sensations of smell ; yet there must be 
such particles, or we should have no sensations. And when 
the resulting sensations are different, — when some bodies have 
a pleasant, and others an offensive odor, there must be a differ- 
ence in the odoriferous particles emitted by them, or there 
could be no difference in the sensations which they produce. 
Dr. Brown's system presents us with an effect without a cause 
— represents us as approving, but approving nothing. It is not 
an answer to this statement to say we approve the action,, be- 
cause if there is nothing more in one action than in another to 
excite the emotion of approbation, how comes it to exist at all, 
or why do not all actions awaken it ? If, on the other hand, 
there is something in one action which does not exist in ano- 

* FoL iv. p. 175. 



348 THE NATURE OF RECTITUDE. 

ther, adapted to awaken the feeling, that something is virtue in 
the action ; and the statement of Dr. Brown is overthrown, 
that virtue is " a relation, and nothing more." 

I am not unaware of the way in which Dr. Brown endeavors to 
extricate himself from the difficulty which has been pressed upon 
his system. That difficulty is, that as virtue is a mere relation 
— being nothing in actions themselves — the system supplies 
us with no adequate cause for the rise of the feeling of appro- 
bation — represents it as arising without any thing in the action 
by which it is awakened to produce it, or virtue would be some- 
thing in actions. " It is not to moral distinctions," replies the 
Doctor, " that this objection, if it had any force, would be ap- 
plicable." And he immediately proceeds to argue that it can 
have no force, because many other relations, such as equality, 
proportion, &c. do not signify any thing in the objects them- 
selves to which they are applied, and yet they awaken feelings 
of equality, &c. — i. e. feelings which, according to the line of 
argument we have taken, have no cause, according to Dr. 
Brown's statement, in the objects which produce them. A 
horse passes before us — it is followed by a cow ; we are struck 
with the feeling of their resemblance. Yet the cause of that 
feeling is not in one or the other of the animals, nor in both 
of them united ; it is, says Dr. Brown, in the constitution of 
our mind, formed by its Maker capable of experiencing the 
feeling in the circumstances referred to. The application of 
the argument is as follows : — virtue is nothing in objects, yet 
it may excite the feelings of which we have been speaking. 

In the whole of this reasoning there seems to me a mis- 
take. It appears to identify our notions of virtue with our 
feelings of approbation produced by virtuous conduct. The 
question is, " How do our feelings of approbation arise?" Dr. 
Brown replies by showing how our notions of virtue arise. 
Now, conceding to him, for the sake of argument, that virtue 
is a relation, and that relations do not exist in the object, but 
in the mind which contemplates them ;* it is manifest, on his 
own principles, that to the rise of a notion of relation, it is ne- 
cessary that there be the perception, or conception, Gf two or 
more objects. It is when the horse and cow are both per- 

* What is the proper notion to be formed of relations, appears to me 
a most difficult and perplexing subject. I would not be understood as 
opposing Dr. Brown's statement ; yet I can scarcely accede to it. That 
notions of relations exist in the mind is manifest ; but to say that the re- 
lations themselves exist in the mind, is, I apprehend, more questionable 
phraseology. 



SYSTEM OF DR. BROWN. 349 

ceived, or thought of, and not when they are perceived or 
thought of separately, that the notion of relation arises. It 
follows, accordingly, from this statement, that if virtue be, as 
Dr. Brown states, the relation of an action to the feeling of 
approbation which it excites, the notion of this relation cannot 
arise in the mind on the contemplation of the action and the 
feeling separately. They must be viewed simultaneously ; i. e. 
the emotion of approbation must have arisen before the notion 
of the relation between the action and the emotion can possibly 
arise, for they cannot otherwise be viewed simultaneously. 
Now, Dr. Brown's system leaves us utterly in the dark as to 
the manner in which the emotion arises, or rather as to the 
source from which it springs ; unless, indeed, he has identified 
it with the feeling of relation. And as this feeling depends for 
its existence upon the previous existence of the emotion, for 
the previous existence of which the system supplies no ade- 
quate cause, I cannot but regard the whole theory as baseless. 
There is no virtue in actions — nothing that is in one action, 
which does not exist in another, to excite the emotion, (or 
there would be virtue in the action,) and yet the emotion arises ; 
— a statement which is to me equivalent with the declaration, 
that there is nothing in a rose to awaken the sensation of fra- 
grance, and yet that the sensation arises. 

We have seen that Hutcheson's theory does not necessari- 
ly involve the sentiment that right and wrong are not indica- 
tive of any thing in actions themselves. Now as some actions 
awaken emotions of approbation, while others do not, we might 
have expected to hear Dr. Brown admit the existence of some- 
thing in those actions which is adapted to awaken them. Such 
an admission would, however, be adverse to his doctrine, that 
virtue is a mere relation — a sentiment which lies at the foun- 
dation of most of the mistakes, as they appear to me, that Dr. 
Brown has committed on this subject. It may, then, be worth 
while to examine this sentiment a little more particularly. 

Proceeding on the same principles which have led Dr. 
Brown to declare that virtue is a mere relation, I would ask, 
what should forbid us to say of what are usually called the 
secondary qualities of bodies, as smells, tastes, &c. that they 
are nothing in the bodies themselves, but mere relations of 
those bodies to the sensations they produce ? If this would be 
a miserable quibble, as Mr. Stewart says, (because there must 
be something in the body by which the sensation isj produced, 
though nothing resembling the sensation,) how are we to free 
the statement of Dr. Brown from a similar charge 1 Besides, 

30* 



350 THE NATURE OF RECTITUDE. 

what is meant by the term relation here ? What relation do 
what are called virtuous actions sustain to the emotion they 
awaken 1 It can be no other than the relation of antecedence ; 
that is, the actions precede the emotion, or are the cause of it. 
And if this be the case, they must have a tendency, or aptitude, 
to produce it ; that is, there must be something peculiar to those 
actions — something in them that does not exist in others — 
which is adapted to excite the emotion ; or why do not all ac- 
tions awaken it? And this conducts us to the old conclusion, 
viz. that this something is the virtue of the actions, in opposi- 
tion to the statement, so often repeated, that virtue is a mere 
relation. 

Secondly, If virtue be the mere relation of certain actions to 
a certain emotion, it would seem to have been constituted 
without any reason on the part of God. Dr. Brown himself is 
obliged to admit that actions which are now related to the emo- 
tion of approbation, might have stood in a relation exactly the 
reverse ; in which case what is now regarded as virtue would 
have been vice, and vice itself would have been transformed 
into virtue. Now, if we were not formed to approve an action 
because it is right, but the action becomes right by our approv- 
ing it, what reason can there have been for that particular con- 
stitution of mind which our Creator has given to us? Admit, 
with Mr. Stewart, " that the words right and wrong express 
qualities of actions, — that when we say an act of justice is 
right, we assert a truth which is independent of the constitu- 
tion of our minds ;" — and all doubt is removed. What is right, 
God has formed the mind to approve — as what is good, he has 
formed it to desire. If an action became good by being de- 
sired, and right by being approved, which appears to be Dr. 
Brown's system, what reason, it is again asked, could have in- 
duced the Deity to form the mind to approve some actions, 
and not others ? Dr. Brown intimates, indeed, on one occa- 
sion, that the actions we approve must be approved by God ; 
and he would, perhaps, argue from that circumstance, that they 
could not have occupied a relation different from that in which 
they at present stand to our minds. But why must they be ap- 
proved by God ? They must be approved by us, because our 
minds are constituted to approve of them ; — a reason which 
does not apply to God. If they have no rectitude in themselves, 
i. e. as it appears to me, if there is in them nothing to approve, 
how is it that they awaken approbation in the mind of the Deity ? 
Were it certainly the case, that an action must awaken appro- 
bation in the mind of God, because it excites it in ours, it would 



SYSTEM OF DR. BROWN. 351 

follow, for any thing I can see to the contrary, that an object 
which excites in our minds the emotion of beauty, must appear 
beautiful to Jehovah. 

And, further, if actions derive their virtue from the consti- 
tution of our minds — if virtue be, as it is stated, the mere re- 
lation of a certain action to a certain state of the mind — how 
could there be virtue, any more than beauty, or fragrance, 
previous to the existence of the mind ? What, on this system, 
is the rectitude of God — that holiness which is ascribed to 
him by those who are admitted to closer fellowship than we 
enjoy, and which adorned his character long ere his voice, 
" Let there be light," broke the silence of eternity? It can 
manifestly be nothing else than the tendency of certain con- 
templated actions to awaken the approbation of his own mind. 
But if certain actions tend to awaken approbation, and others 
not, must there not be some quality in the former which the 
latter do not possess, by which the approbation is excited — 
i. e. must there not be virtue in the former, and not in the 
latter ? 

If we avail ourselves of Dr. Brown's own statement, that 
a moral action is, in fact, the moral agent himself, we shall, 
perhaps, render it more difficult for an advocate of his system 
to explain what we are to understand by the essential rectitude 
of the Divine Being. He would seem to be reduced to the 
necessity of saying, that the holiness of God is the relation of 
the Divine character to the Divine approbation. 

Thirdly, Dr. Brown's theory of morals proceeds on a prac- 
tical forgetfulness of the distinction which exists, as he him- 
self admits, between what is, and what ought to be, in human 
conduct. " When we know," says he, " that man has certain 
affections and passions, there still remains the great inquiry 
as to the propriety or impropriety of those passions, and of 
the conduct to which they lead." To the importance of this 
admission reference has been already made. It is, indeed, 
manifest, that we must either admit that every state of mind, 
of every human being, is right — and right because it exists ; — 
or that we must seek for some moral rule, by which to try its 
rectitude. Now Dr. Brown places that standard, as we have 
seen, not in the law of God, not in any thing exterior to the 
mind, but in the mind itself, in one of its own states or affec- 
tions. Those actions and affections which excite certain 
emotions of approbation, are right, and right on that account. 
But are not emotions of approbation affections of the mind? 
And must we not, accordingly, on his own principles, institute 



352 THE NATURE OF RECTITUDE. 

an inquiry concerning their "propriety, or impropriety?" If» 
with regard to other emotions, it is not enough to know that 
the mind is susceptible of them, or that, on a certain occasion, 
they actually exist, why should it be considered enough to 
know this with reference to the emotions of moral approba- 
tion and disapprobation ? Since we are not to take it for grant- 
ed that any other affection is right because it exists, why should 
we sit down with the assurance that the affection of moral ap- 
probation is right, because it exists ? It is necessary not only 
to have a moral measure of the rectitude of actions, but to be 
certain of its accuracy. Dr. Brown takes the feeiings of ap- 
probation and disapprobation as the moral measure of all other 
affections. The first step in the process, then, on his system, 
is to prove the accuracy of his measure, and the consequent 
rectitude of every action which is conformed to it. Now, what 
proof has Dr. Brown of the accuracy of his measure ? He 
does not produce any. Emotions of approbation are affec- 
tions of mind ; but affections of mind are not proved to be 
right, by his own concession, by their existence. And yet 
affections of mind, the rectitude of which, on Dr. Brown's 
own principles, requires to be proved, but of which no proof 
either is, or can be given, are the only standard by which other 
affections are to be tried ! It is obvious that the Doctor takes 
for granted the propriety of the feelings of approbation ; and, 
indeed, that he must do so. And, taking this for granted, the 
system supplies us with no certain measure of the rectitude 
of any action, or of any affection of mind whatever. The cor- 
rectness of the rule not being verified, we can have no confi- 
dence in relation to the correctness of any thing that is mea- 
sured by it. The whole system of morals is thus involved 
in doubt and uncertainty ; and it is impossible, on this scheme, 
for any man to know whether he deserves the vengeance or 
the love of his fellow- men. 

The charge which has thus been brought against the system 
of Dr. Brown, is, it is conceived, established. He practically 
forgets the distinction between that which is, and that which 
ought to be. We approve of certain actions and affections ; 
and they are right, because we so approve of them ; i. e. we 
gather our knowledge of the rectitude of one affection, from 
the existence of another affection. How was it possible for 
this acute writer to avoid perceiving, that he has no more right 
to take for granted the rectitude of the feeling of moral appro- 
bation, than the rectitude of any other feeling? And that un- 
til he has proved the correctness of his measure, or rule, it will 



SYSTEM OF DR. BROWN. 353 

be impossible to prove the rectitude of any action, or affection, 
which is compared with it ? 

I have dwelt the longer on this point, because the influence 
of this mistake, as I cannot but deem it, is visible in the whole 
of his disquisitions on the subject of morals — many of which 
are of great value, though the oversight to which we now re- 
fer is a serious drawback upon their importance. He en- 
counters those who deny that there is any distinction between 
virtue and vice — those who maintain, with Hobbes, that this 
distinction is the mere result of political enactment — and es- 
pecially Hume, and the selfish system, as he denominates it, 
in the same manner, and on the same principles. We approve 
certain actions on the instant of contemplating them ; they are, 
therefore, virtuous actions — thus considering what is, an infal- 
lible measure of what ought to be. 

I have said that this oversight comes into prominent view in 
his eloquent attack upon those who rest the foundation of vir- 
tue upon utility, either public or private. The current of his 
reasoning is as follows : We do not approve of an action be- 
cause it is adapted to promote the good of society ; nor be- 
cause it tends to the benefit of the individual, either in this 
world or the next. Our approbation is given previously to 
any calculation of consequences ; and, therefore, the tenden- 
cy of the action, he argues, to promote either public or pri- 
vate benefit, is not that which gives it the character of virtue. 

Now, I have no doubt that the foregoing account states the 
fact correctly — that we do approve of actions without any re- 
ference to their consequences. Nor do I oppose the sentiment, 
that the actions are not rendered virtuous by their beneficial 
tendency. But I deny that this is a legitimate conclusion 
from the premises. For as the approbation of which he speaks 
is an affection of mind, the question obviously recurs, " Are 
we right in approving actions without any reference to their 
tendency or consequences ? Is it certainly the case that what 
we approve is worthy of approbation V 9 If it be so, how are 
we to support the correctness of the Doctor's own statement, 
" that after we know that a man has certain affections, there 
still remains the great inquiry concerning their propriety or im- 
propriety ?" Unless we admit that man is what he ought to be, 
it is impossible consistently to maintain that any actual feeling 
whatever, in any case of its occurrence, is right, because it ex- 
ists. Susceptibilities of feeling, indeed, belonging to the phy- 
sical nature of man, must be allowed to be what they should be, 
from the bare fact of their existence. But as mere susceptibi- 



354 THE NATURE OF RECTITUDE. 

lities, i. e. capabilities of feeling, they have obviously no moral 
character whatever. The susceptibilities of experiencing love, 
hatred, fear, anger, &c. render us capable of becoming virtuous 
or vicious ; but they are themselves neither virtuous nor vici- 
ous. It is only when they are developed—or rather to the af- 
fections which grow out of them, that a moral character can 
attach ; and as it is admitted, on all hands, that there may be 
an improper development of all our affections, it is manifest 
that no particular instance of their development can be proved 
to be right, by the mere fact of the development itself. 

Thus Dr. Brown's system confounds what is, with what 
ought to be ; and it places the foundation of virtue in the arbi- 
trary constitution of the mind. I must not forget to notice the 
very ingenious manner in which our author attempts to parry 
the objection which Dr. Price brings, on this account, against 
the theory of Hutcheson. Dr. Price refers our moral senti- 
ments to reason. There is an eternal and immutable distinc- 
tion, he says, between right and wrong ; and the understand- 
ing perceives this, as it perceives the difference between truth 
and falsehood, &c. This statement, replies Dr. Brown, is ex- 
posed to the very same objection with the one for which it is 
offered as a substitute ; since reason is but a principle of our 
mental frame, like the principle which is the source of moral 
emotions. What we term reason is only a brief expression of 
a number of separate feelings of relation, of which the mind 
might or might not have been formed to be susceptible, and 
has no peculiar claim to remain unaltered."* 

Now, this reply of Dr. Brown would be valid, I apprehend, 
if the argument of Dr. Price were — a certain action or affec- 
tion is virtuous, because we 'perceive it to be so. There is no dif- 
ference, in this point of view, whether we say we perceive, or, 
with Dr. Brown, we feel an action to be virtuous. If we rest 
its claim to the praise of rectitude on our judgments, or our 
emotions, we are confounding what is, with what ought to be ; 
and placing the foundation of rectitude in the arbitrary consti- 
tution of our minds. But the argument of Dr. Price is, or was 
intended to be, — there are moral distinctions in actions ; and, 
therefore, God has rendered the human mind capable of ap- 
preciating them. If certain affections and actions appear to the 
judgment to be right, and if there be no reason to suppose that 
the view we thus take of them is influenced by the moral in- 
firmity of our nature, there is good reason to infer that they are 

* Vol. iv. p. 179. 



SYSTEM OF DR. BROWN. 355 

fight affections and actions. God cannot be supposed to have 
given us an erring judgment. The theory of Dr. Brown is very 
different. He does not infer that an action is in itself right, be- 
cause the mind has been formed to approve it. There is, he 
says, on the contrary, no virtue in actions. They are virtuous 
because they are approved : — a statement similar to the follow- 
ing declaration on the part of .Dr. Price, if he could be sup- 
posed to utter such a statement, "Actions are virtuous because 
they are perceived to be so." 

Fourthly, It is necessarily involved in Dr. Brown's princi- 
ples, that there might be virtue in a nation of atheists. The 
denial of the Divine existence does not effect a radical altera- 
tion in the mental constitution. The atheist, as well as the 
theist, feels the emotion of approbation on the contemplation 
of certain actions. Now, according to the statements of Dr. 
Brown, to feel morally obliged to perform an action, is to be 
sensible that we could not neglect it without incurring our own 
disapprobation, as well as the disapprobation of others ; to be 
virtuous, or to have merit, is to have acted in such a manner as 
to have obtained this approbation. What is there, then, to ren- 
der it impossible that an atheist should feel this sort of obliga- 
tion — should become the subject of virtue, in this sense of the 
term 1 obviously nothing. Expunging from his creed alto- 
gether the doctrine of the Divine existence, he might yet be 
strictly virtuous. I know not, indeed, whether this would be 
denied by Dr. Brown. Certain it is, that, in one of the most 
objectionable passages in his whole work, he declares that 
there may be virtue where there is no regard to] the Divine 
authority in what we do, nor indeed any thought of the Divine 
existence. And if there may be virtue where God is forgotten, 
I see not why it should not exist where his very being is de- 
nied." " The question is not," says he, " whether it be virtue 
to conform our will to that of the Deity, when that will is re- 
vealed to us, or clearly implied, for of this there can be no 
doubt. It is, whether there be not in our nature a principle of 
moral obligation, from which our feelings of obligation, virtue, 
merit, r flow, and which operates, not independently of the Di- 
vine will indeed, for it was the Divine will which implanted in 
us this very principle, but without the necessary considera- 
tion at the time of the expression of the Divine will ; and con- 
sequently without any intentional conformity to it, or disobe- 
dience, or which in our disobedience itself, as often as we think 
of the Divine will, is the very principle by which we feel the 
duty of such conformity. The mother, though she should, at 



356 THE NATURE OF RECTITUDE. 

the moment, forget altogether that there is a God in nature, 
would still turn, with moral horror, from the thought of mur- 
dering the little prattler who is sporting on her knee ; and who 
is not more beautiful to her eye by external charms and graces, 
than beautiful to her heart by the thousand tendernesses which 
every day and almost every hour is developing ; while the 
child who has, perhaps, scarcely heard that there is a God, or 
who, at least, is ignorant of any will of God, in conformity 
with which virtue consists, is still in his very ignorance, deve- 
loping these moral feelings which are supposed to be incon- 
sistent with such ignorance ; and would not have the same 
feeling of complacency, in repaying the parental caresses 
with acts of intentional injury, as when he repays them with 
expressions of intentional love. Of all the mothers who at 
this time are exercised, and virtuously exercised, in maternal 
duties around the cradles of their infants, there is, perhaps, not 
one who is thinking that God has commanded her to love her 
offspring, and to perform for them the many offices of love 
that are necessary for preserving the lives that are so dear to 
her. The expression of the Divine will, indeed, not merely 
gives us new and nobler duties to perform — it gives a new and 
nobler delight also to the very duties which our nature prompts ; 
but still there are duties which our nature prompts, and the 
violation of which is felt as moral wrong, even when God is 
known and worshippped^only as a demon of power, still ^less 
benevolent than the very barbarians who howl around his altar 
in their savage sacrifices."* 

I cannot see how it is possible for a Christian moralist to do 
otherwise than strongly condemn this passage. Why did not 
the Doctor refer us to the parent brute, guarding her young 
with manifest tenderness, as a specimen of virtue ? In what 
does the mother, supposed by Dr. Brown, differ from the brute"? 
Her watching around the cradle of her young, is not the result 
of any regard to God — not prompted by a sense of duty ; but 
by mere animal affection. " I see not," says one, " on what 
ground the mere instinctive exercise of these affections, which 
are common to us with the lower animals, should be dignified 
with the sacred apellation of virtue. There is virtue in the 
exercise of our feelings and faculties only when they are in- 
tentionally made subservient to the great and ultimate end of 
our being." 

On this account, it is said that " the very ploughing of the 

* Vol. iv. pp. 10S-9. 



SYSTEM OF DR. BROWN. 357 

wicked is sin" — that the " sacrifices of the wicked are abomi- 
nation to the Lord" — that " they who are in the flesh cannot 
please God." They do what nature prompts ; but to act mere- 
ly under the promptings of nature, without any intentional con- 
formity to the requirements of duty, will not secure, if we take 
the New Testament for our guide, the divine approbation ; and, 
therefore, such conduct cannot deserve the sacred appellation 
of virtue. Scripture morality requires that " whatever we do in 
word or deed, we should do all in the name of the Lord ;" — 
that whether we eat or drink, or whatever we do, all should be 
done to the glory of God. 

Fifthly, it attaches, as a necessary consequence to the sys- 
tem of Dr. Brown, that the most flagitious actions may, in 
particular circumstances, not merely lose their turpitude, but 
become positively virtuous. The moral obligation to abstain 
from an action, is the feeling that, by committing it, we should 
forfeit our own approbation and that of others. The moral 
obligation to perform an action, is, on the other hand, the feel- 
ing that by performing it we should secure the approbation of 
both. There is, accordingly, no obligation to perform any ac- 
tion when this feeling, which is the only impelling principle, 
does not exist. This, indeed, seems to be allowed by Dr. 
Brown himself. " If there had been no moral emotions to 
arise on the contemplation of certain actions, there would have 
been no virtue, vice, merit, or demerit, which express only re- 
lations to these emotions." It is true, this statement merely 
affirms, that if we had not been formed susceptible of moral 
emotions, there would have been no vice or virtue in the world. 
But if the emotion constitutes the only binding force — the only 
moral obligation to perform an action, what difference does it 
make, I ask, whether, when an action is contemplated, we are 
destitute of that emotion by constitutional defect, or through 
the operation of any other circumstance ? If the emotion is 
not there, the moral obligation is not there, There is nothing 
to render it a duty to perform the action. It is true, we may 
have violated duty at a previous step of the process. We may 
have neglected those measures, which, had they been adopted, 
would have secured the existence of the emotion at the time 
referred to. Yet still, as to be morally obliged, on the scheme 
of Dr. Brown, is to feel that if such an action be neglected, 
we shall forfeit the approbation of the wise and good, as well 
as our own, I see not how the conclusion is to be avoided, that 
there can be no sin in not performing an action, when we do 
not feel in the manner described. This, however, is not a ll. 

31 



358- THE NATURE OF RECTITUDE* 

It clearly follows, in addition to this, as we have stated, that if 
any action, however flagitious it may be, be contemplated with 
an emotion of approbation, the performance of that action be- 
comes a duty. If the approving feeling be there, the moral ob- 
ligation must be there also. And, in that case, infanticide, and 
parricide, and theft, are actions not merely to be in certain in- 
stances palliated, but morally applauded. It was the absolute 
duty of Paul to persecute the church of God ; for " he verily 
thought within himself that he ought to do many things con- 
trary to the name of Jesus of Nazareth ;" for this conduct,, 
however, he regarded himself as standing in need of mercy. 
His previous conduct, in neglecting to avail himself of the 
means of instruction, according to Dr. Brown's principles, 
may, indeed, have been morally wrong ; but the cruelties he 
practiced were morally right. It is in vain to say that his ig- 
norance was voluntary, and, therefore, his conduct was wrong. 
To maintain the guilt of a man who does wrong, when he 
thinks himself in the right, we must suppose that there is a mo- 
ral obligation to actions which is totally independent of the 
state of feeling of the agent, and this the views of Dr. Brown 
will not allow him to admit., 

IV. The assertion of an essential difference between right 
and wrong, is opposed to the sentiments of those who main- 
tain that the consequences of actions impart to them their moral 
character — or, in other words, who place the foundation of vir- 
tue in utility. Amongst the advocates of this system, there are 
two leading divisions. Some make the utility to be private, 
and individual ; thus considering virtue to be nothing more than 
a well-regulated self-love : while others set up the standard of 
general utility, and consider an action to be virtuous, because 
of its tendency to promote the general welfare. As to the best 
criterion of ascertaining it, there is also a difference of opinion. 
Some refer to the light of nature as sufficient for the purpose r 
while others acknowledge the will of the Deity to be the rule. 
Both contend, however, that the action, in whatever way it 
may be ascertained to be right, is right merely because of its 
utility. This theory of morals has been defended by Christian 
writers, as well as by infidels ; it is worthy, therefore, of par- 
ticular consideration. Some of the principal arguments in sup- 
port of this system are the following. 

1st, It is conceived to be the best system, because it is ca- 
pable of general application. All the virtues are useful, and 
whatever system be adopted, no action can be regarded as 
right but what is deemed to possess this property. If, there- 



THE SELFISH SYSTEM. 359 

fore, every action with which we are acquainted, be, in point 
of fact, useful, we are authorized to consider utility as the rea- 
son of its being right. 

2d, To lay the foundation of virtue in utility, is to place it 
on an intelligible footing. " To refer to the fitness of things, 
or the moral sense, is to use phrases that not one in a thou- 
sand of the common people clearly understand. But, on the 
other hand, to say that an action is right because it promotes 
the general interests of mankind, is to assign a reason that is 
immediately understood." 

3d, It is asserted that the positive and comparative worth 
of human actions is generally determined by some view of 
their utility. Thus, if actions be compared, that action which 
has the greatest measure of benefit to the greatest number of 
individuals resulting from it, is alledgedto be the most virtuous 
■action. It is contended that utility has a close connexion with 
all our sympathetic feelings, and best accounts for the emo- 
tions and affections which follow our actions. Hence the satis- 
faction we feel in contemplating a benevolent action, or a just 
action performed by others, and the complacency of which we 
ure conscious in performing such actions ourselves. 

4th, Dr. Dwight argues that virtue must have its foundation 
in utility, because there is no ultimate good but happiness. 
Virtue is the means of happiness, and, like all other species of 
means, is only valuable on account of the end to which it leads. 
* 4 If virtue," says he, w brought with it no enjoyment to us, and 
produced not happiness to others, it would be wholly destitute 
of all the importance, beauty, and glory, with which it is now 
invested. Virtue, therefore, must have its foundation in utility." 
And again, ** were sin to produce the same good with virtue, 
no reason is apparent to me, why it would not become excel- 
lent and rewardable. Were virtue to produce the same evil 
with vice, I see no reason why we should not attribute to it all 
the odiousness, blame-worthiness, and desert of punishment 
which we now attribute to sin." 

5th, It may be alledged that nothing can render it a duty to do 
any thing which is contrary to our own welfare, taking the whole 
of our being into the account. The command of God himself, 
could we conceive of his issuing a command at variance with 
our ultimate happiness, must be inoperative, nay, ought to be 
inoperative here. The tendency of an action then to promote 
our happiness, taking the whole of our being into the account, 
must be that which renders it a duty, or gives it to the character 
of rectitude- 



360 THE NATURE OF RECTITUDE. 

In proceeding to examine the system which has been briefly 
detailed, it may be expedient to show how far we are agreed 
with its advocates. 

1st, It is, then, freely granted, that virtue is characterized 
by utility— or that virtuous actions are beneficial. It does not, 
however, follow as a legitimate consequence from this circum- 
stance, that they owe their rectitude to their utility. The sub- 
jects of God's moral government sustain various important 
relations to him, and to each other. Actions which correspond 
with these relations, are both virtuous and beneficial ; and, 
therefore, though always useful, it is not necessary to suppose 
that they are virtuous because they are useful. When the ma- 
terialist tells us that sensation and thought must be the proper- 
ties of a certain system of organized matter, because they in- 
variably accompany it, and are never found but in connexion 
with it, we meet this assertion with a negative, on the ground 
that God may have established a connexion between a certain 
state of the brain and the manifestation of vital phenomena, 
though the organization is not the cause of the phenomena. 
In like manner, God may have established a connexion be- 
tween certain actions and the happiness of mankind, though 
the tendency of these actions to secure happiness does not 
give to them the character of virtue. 

2dly, It may be further granted, with reference to many 
subjects of political enactment, that what is expedient is right. 
But it must be remembered that these enactments regard 
things which are in themselves morally indifferent. The su- 
preme legislature may determine whether a particular tax 
shall be imposed ; but they must not pass an act authorizing 
theft, or murder. And the rectitude which these decisions 
give to actions is rather a legal than a moral rectitude ; unless, 
indeed, the conduct they enjoin may be said to derive a moral 
character from the obligation under which every individual 
lies, to seek the good of the nation, and to yield obedience to 
its laws. 

3dly, It may also be granted "that cases may arise which 
may require a particular reference to utility and expediency 
in order to their determination." Still these concessions do 
not imply that actions are right, because they are beneficial ; 
all they prove is that, by their being beneficial, we may ascer- 
tain them to be right. " Utility may be a criterion of virtue, 
without being the criterion ; and it might be even the criterion, 
without being the ultimate reason of duty. Did we admit the 
universality of expediency as a test, it would not prove the 



EXAMINATION OF THE SELFISH SYSTEM. 361 

action to be right on that account ; it would only prove that 
this was the best or safest rule by which to discover its recti- 
tude." 

Finally, I am very ready to admit, that nothing could ren- 
der it our duty to do what would endanger our well-being dur- 
ing the whole extent of our existence. This may result, how- 
ever, from that which is involved in the ultimate and everlast- 
ing loss of well-being. To be eternally miserable, is to be an 
eternal enemy to God; on this account, nothing should lead 
ras to risk the loss of eternal happiness. We are formed to 
desire our own happiness — in point of fact, all men actually 
desire, and pursue, that which they consider likely to promote 
it. But to say that we must pursue it, as a matter of duty — 
that we are guilty, as well as imprudent, if this be not our con- 
duct — that no consideration whatever will justify our disre- 
garding it for a season, (and if for a season, why not for ever?) 
is more than I should choose to maintain. It may, therefore, 
be allowed that nothing can render it a duty to risk our eter- 
nal salvation, without embracing the sentiment, that the ten- 
dency of an action to promote our welfare is that which gives 
it the character of virtue. 

In opposition to the theory which founds virtue in utility, I 
observe, 

First, that it is at variance with the manner, and circum- 
stances, in which moral emotions arise in the mind. That 
God has formed us susceptible of such emotions, i. e. capable 
of vividly approving, or disapproving certain actions and af- 
fections, has been conceded to Dr. Brown ; while we hesitate, 
recollecting the moral pravity of our race, to admit that those 
actions which we approve, are certainly right on that account. 
Still it must be admitted that our inquiries into the nature of 
virtue will be aided by observing the manner in which the 
emotions in question arise. For if, in point of fact, they are 
awakened not by any view of the utility of the action — if they 
arise previously to any calculation, or even thought, of its uti- 
lity, and entirely through the influence of other considerations 
— and if this rise of the emotions cannot be supposed to be the 
result of any moral obliquity introduced by sin ; — it must, in 
that case, be admitted that they form correct criteria of virtue. 
What we actually approve may be regarded, under the limita- 
tions suggested above, as indicating what we were originally 
formed to approve. And if God has not formed us to approve 
an action on account of its tendency to promote either our 
benefit or that of others, we may surely infer that it does not 

31* 



S62 THE NATURE OF RECTITUDE. 

derive its rectitude from its usefulness to ourselves or others. 
It is not to be supposed that we have been formed to approve 
actions which are not right — " or so, as that we do not, and 
cannot, approve that in them which constitutes their rectitude, 
but something, on the other hand, which does not constitute 
it." The question is then one of fact. Do we give our ap- 
probation to actions on account of their utility? The inquiry 
shall be made in reference both to private and public utility. 
(1.) Is our approbation given to actions on account of their 
bearing upon our personal interest or welfare ? That we must 
reply to this question in the negative, it appears to me impos- 
sible to doubt. A seemingly generous man comes prominently 
forward to the relief of a very deserving individual, who had 
been reduced to great distress. He delivers him from prison, 
rescues him from penury, places him in business, opens the 
way for him to wealth and happiness. We approve and admire 
his disinterested and distinguished kindness. After the lapse 
of a short period, however, events occur to induce a suspicion 
that we have misconceived the motives under the impulse of 
which he acted. Circumstances render it but too manifest that 
real sympathy with the unfortunate sufferer had little or no in- 
fluence upon his mind — that he had merely made use of his 
distress as a foundation on which to build a reputation for 
splendid liberality. Our feelings of approbation instantly sub- 
side. Nay, the obliged individual himself ceases to approve the 
conduct of his benefactor. But, if virtue be the tendency of an 
action to promote individual benefit, why should he do this ? 
Though he has become more enlightened in relation to the 
motives of his patron, he still continues to enjoy the substan- 
tial benefits of his liberality. The fact is incompatible with the 
notion that the emotion of approbation is awakened by the ten- 
dency of an action to promote individual benefit. " Let us ima- 
gine that some human demon, a Nero, a Tiberius, a Caligula, 
were to show to any one of us all the kingdoms of the world, and 
to say, ' All these thou shalt have, if thou wilt but esteem me,' 
— would our esteem arise at all more readily ? Should we feel, 
in that case, for the guilty offerer of so many means of happi- 
ness, a single emotion like that which we feel for the humblest 
virtue of one who we know never can be of any aid to our 
worldly advancement % If a virtuous action be in itself nothing, 
except as a source of personal gain, why, in such a case as 
. that which I have supposed, does not our heart feel its senti- 
ments of esteem and abhorrence vary with every new acces- 
sion of happiness which is promised to us? At first, indeed, 



EXAMINATION OF THE SELFISH SYSTEM. 363 

we may feel a loathing for the tyrant, — not because tyranny is 
in itself less worthy of approbation than the mildest benevo- 
lence, — but because it may be more injurious to our interest. 
It would require no trifling equivalent ; but still, as it is only a 
quantity of injury which is dreaded, an equivalent may be 
found ; and, with every new bribe for our esteem, there is of 
course a nearer approach to this equivalent. Our abhorrence 
should gradually subside into slight indignation, and this into 
very slight dislike, and this again, when the bribe is increased, 
become at length some slight emotion of approbation, which 
may rise with the still increasing bribe, through all the stages of 
love, — through esteem, respect, veneration, — till we feel ulti- 
mately for the tyrant, whose power is to us a source of so much 
happiness, all that devotion of the heart which we so readily 
yield to power that is exerted for the benefit of mankind. When 
we labor to think of this progressive transmutation of moral 
sentiment, while the guilty object of it continues the same, in 
every respect,°but as he offers a greater or less bribe for our 
affection, — do we not feel, by the inconsistency which strikes 
us at every supposed stage of the progress, that affection, — the 
pure affection which loves virtue and hates vice, — is not any 
thing which could be bought, but by that noble price which is 
the virtue itself that is honored by us ; and that to bribe us to 
love what "is viewed by us with horror, or to hate what is view- 
ed by us with tenderness or reverence, is an attempt as hope- 
less as it would be to bribe us to regard objects as purple 
which are yellow, or yellow which are purple ? We may indeed 
agree, by a sacrifice of truth, to call that purple which we see 
to be yellow, as we may agree, by a still more profligate sacri- 
fice of every noble feeling, to offer to tyranny the homage of 
our adulation, — to say to the murderer of Thrasia Psetus, 'thou 
hast done well,' — to the parricide who murdered Agrippina, 
4 thou hast done more than well.' As every new victim falls, 
we may lift our voice in still louder flattery. We may fall at the 
proud (eet, — we may beg as a boon, the honor of kissing that 
bloody hand which has been lifted against the helpless ; we 
may do more, — we may bring the altar and the sacrifice, and 
implore the god not to ascend too soon to heaven. This we 
may do, for this we have the sad remembrance that beings of 
a human form, and sons, have done. But this is all which we 
can do. We can constrain our tongue to be false ; our fea- 
tures to bend themselves to the semblance of that passionate 
adoration which we wish to express ; our knees to fall pros- 
trate ; but our heart we cannot constrain. There, virtue must 



364 THE NATURE OF RECTITUDE. 

still have a voice which is not to be drowned by hymns and 
acclamations, — there the crimes which we laud as virtuous, 
are crimes still, — and he whom we have made a god is the 
most contemptible of mankind ; — if, indeed, we do not feel 
perhaps that we are ourselves still more contemptible. When 
is it, I may ask, that the virtue of any one appears to us most 
amiable ? Is it when it seems attended with every thing that 
can excite the envy even of the wicked, with wealth, with 
power, with all which is commonly termed good fortune ; and 
when, if its influence on our emotions depend on the mere 
images of enjoyment which it suggests, these may surely be 
supposed to arise most readily ? It is amiable indeed, even in 
such circumstances ; but how much more interesting is it to 
us, when it is loaded with afflictions from which it alone can de- 
rive happiness 1 It is Socrates in the prison of whom we think 
— Aristides in exile, — and perhaps Cato, whatever compara- 
tive esteem he might have excited, would have been little more 
interesting in our eyes than Caesar himself, if "Caesar had not 
been a successful usurper."* 

Should it be said that, in considering the tendency of an ac- 
tion to promote our individual benefit, we must take the whole 
of our being into the account — and that we are accordingly not 
entitled to consider any action as virtuous which is not in this 
highest sense useful ; I answer that, even according to this 
statement, certainly less objectionable than the other, rectitude 
is only a matter of prudence. The difference between virtue 
and vice is precisely the same in kind with that which exists 
between different speculators in the market of commerce, who 
have employed their capital more or less advantageously in the 
different bargains that have been offered to them. The indi- 
vidual who chooses the pleasures of sin, in preference to the 
glories of eternity, acts, it must be admitted, a most unwise and 
imprudent part ; but what more can be said of his conduct ? 
To charge him with blame, in acting so imprudently, is to ut- 
ter words without meaning. The language implies that there 
is a distinction between what is right and what is prudent, 
which the sentiment I am opposing denies. We regard what 
is called a prudent man, and a virtuous man, with very differ- 
ent feelings, and our emotions of moral approbation are only 
given to the latter. It is of no consequence in this point of 
view whether the individual be prudent for time or eternity. 
Could we conceive of a person abstaining from all sin, and 

* Brown, vol. iv. p. 70-73. 



EXAMINATION OF THE SELFISH SYSTEM. 365 

doing all that the law of God requires, and influenced at the 
same time by no conviction of duty, by no sense of obligation 
to God, by no regard to his glory — but by the mere instinctive 
desire of securing his own happiness, we should follow him, I 
imagine, through his whole course on earth, and see him enter 
heaven at last, were it possible for such a man to gain admis- 
sion there, without a single plaudit of approbation. 

Our emotions of approbation are not then, in point of fact, 
awakened by the bearing of actions upon our individual bene- 
fit. Now, if man were what he ought to be, this circumstance 
would supply decisive proof that actions do not derive their 
virtue from private utility. He is not, however, what he ought 
to be ; he is a depraved being. Yet the rise of the emotion, 
previous to any thought of the consequences of the action ap- 
proved, does not seem to be the result of depravity. It cannot, 
indeed, be supposed for a moment to be so. We may, there- 
fore, fairly conclude that the moral emotions of which we speak 
are developments of an original susceptibility of mind. And 
if God has not formed the mind to approve an action on account 
of its private utility, it follows, according to our previous rea- 
soning, that it is not approvable on that account, — or, in other 
words, that virtue is not founded in private utility. 

(2.) Is it true that our approbation is given to actions on 
account of their general utility ? It appears to me that Dr. 
Brown has supported the negation of this position with a power 
of argument not to be shaken. Our consciousness, if we ap- 
peal to it, will tell us, that admiration, not moral approbation, 
is awakened by what is merely beneficial. If any one should 
doubt this, I would ask him how he can otherwise explain the 
fact, that intelligent agents are exclusively approved 1 Utility 
is to be found not in the actions of voluntary agents alone, but 
in inanimate matter. A ship, a steam-engine, a printing-press, 
have contributed a far greater amount to the happiness of the 
world, than any single action of any human being. Why then 
do we not approve of and morally respect these inventions ? 
Why do we not regard "a chest of drawers," to use the illus- 
tration of Dr. Smith, with the same feelings with which we 
contemplate the conduct of the Christian ? That we do not is 
indisputable. The emotions which are produced by what is 
useful, and what is morally good, are feelings as different as 
any two feelings which are not absolutely opposite ; and if we 
class them as the same, we may with as much reason class as 
the same our moral veneration, and our sensation of fragrance, 
because they are both pleasing. If virtue, however, be founded 



366 THE NATURE OF RECTITUDE. 






in utility, it is indisputable that a man of virtue, and a chest o* 
drawers, ought to be regarded with exactly the same feelings. 
The only way of escaping from this consequence is to tell us 
that it is only utility in certain voluntary actions of living beings 
that awakens approbation. The reply of Brown is triumphant. 
" Does he not perceive, however, that in making this limita- 
tion he has conceded the very point in question ? He admits 
that the actions of men are not valued merely as being useful, 
in which case they must have ranked in virtue with all things 
that are useful, exactly according to their place in the scale of 
utility, — but for something which may be useful, or rather 
which is useful, yet which, merely as useful, never could have 
excited the feelings which it excites when considered as a vo- 
luntary choice of good. He admits an approvableness, then, 
peculiar to living and voluntary agents, a capacity of exciting 
certain vivid moral emotions, which are not commensurable 
with any utility, since no accession of mere utility could pro- 
duce them. In short, he admits every thing for which the as- 
sertor of the peculiar and essential distinctions of virtue con- 
tends ; and all which he gains by his verbal distinction of utili- 
ties is, that his admission of the doctrine which he professes to 
oppose is tacit only, not open and direct." The cause of the 
mistake, which identifies utility and virtue, has been referred to 
already, and is thus well stated by a late writer: — " That there 
is a close connexion between virtue and happiness, so close 
that without it the universe would become a splendid mansion 
of misery, is not to be doubted ; and it is chiefly because this 
connexion is felt and observed by all, that certain writers have 
been led to maintain that virtue solely consists in utility, or in 
its tendency to happiness, and that the law by which we are to 
regulate our conduct is to be found in what appears to us to 
be conducive to happiness. They have been led to embrace 
this opinion with the greater confidence, that they have ob- 
served how much its truth holds in regard to men invested 
with public offices and public trust. Men in such circum- 
stances are, doubtless, bound to act for the good of the com- 
munity. But they are bound so to act, because it is their duty 
to love their neighbors as themselves, to respect the rights of 
others as they do their own, and, consequently, to promote 
their happiness to the extent of their power and opportunity."* 
In consequence of this connexion between virtue and utility, 
we approve of actions which tend to general happiness. The 

* Dewar, vol. ii. p. 44. 



EXAMINATION OF THE SELFISH SYSTEM. 367 

important question, however, says Dr. Brown, is, whether the 
specific amount of utility be that which we have in view in 
the approbation we give to certain actions, — whether we love 
the generosity of our benefactor with an emotion exactly the 
same in kind, however different it may be in degree, as that 
with which we love the bank bill, or the estate which he may 
have given us. This he very justly denies. Were it the case 
that our approbation is founded on utility, is it not manifest 
that the consequences of an action must be present to our view, 
before we could approve it? This, however, is not the case. 
" Who is there," says Brown, " that in the contemplation of 
Thermopylae, and of the virtues that have made that desolate 
spot for ever sacred to us, can think of Leonidas and his little 
band without any emotion of reverence, till the thought occur, 
how useful it must be to nations to have rulers so intrepid I 
Our admiration is not so tardy a calculator. It is instant in all 
its fervor." To the same effect adds another writer : — " We 
approve or disapprove of actions, however, not because of their 
tendency to happiness, or the contrary, but in consequence of 
the moral constitution of our nature ; which constitution, as 
God is its author, we are to regard as furnishing an expression 
of his will. How few of mankind ever think, or have ever 
thought, of the relation between virtue and happiness ! Do we 
not give our admiration to the virtuous patriot, to the benefac- 
tors of our race who have loved their race more than their own 
ease or lives, before we have considered the good which they 
were instrumental in conferring ? Would not the noble career 
of Howard procure for him a place in the grateful affections of 
every human heart, irrespectively of the consequences which 
are to flow from it, and before these consequences had been 
placed iri view of the mind 1 He who has formed us in his 
own image has not rendered it necessary for us to observe re- 
lations, and to estimate tendencies and effects, previously to 
our approving of an action as right, or of disapproving of it as 
wrong ; and being conscious that we love virtue and hate vice 
without reference to consequences, merely because they are 
virtue and vice, we justly infer that it is not on account of 
their consequences that virtue is lovely and vice hateful, that the 
one produces the emotion of approbation and the other of dis- 
approbation."* 

The amount of the preceding statement is, that as God has 
not formed us to approve actions on account of their general 

* Dewar, vol. ii. pp. 45-6. 



368 THE NATURE OF RECTITUDE. 

utility, they are not virtuous, or approvable on that account. 
The statement does not forget, but, on the contrary, proceeds 
on a careful remembrance of the important distinction which 
exists between what is, and what ought to be. Our suscepti- 
bilities of moral emotion are exactly what they ought to be, 
because they constitute an original and essential part of our 
moral nature. With reference to the developments of these 
susceptibilities — or actual emotions of approbation — hVjnust 
be conceded that they also are what they ought to be, unless 
it [can be shown that in any particular instance the feeling of 
approbation may be the result of that injury which our moral 
nature has sustained through the entrance of sin. We have 
seen that though what is virtuous is also useful, it is not ap- 
proved because it is useful — that the emotion arises, in in- 
numerable instances, previously to any consideration of con- 
sequences. Now as the rise of the emotion cannot be ascrib- 
ed to the moral obliquity of our nature, it may be regarded as 
marking what is, and what is not virtue. 

Before I leave this part of the subject, I would observe that 
our actual emotions of approbation constitute a more accurate 
criterion of virtue (I say criterion, because if man were what 
he ought to be, they would merely supply a rule — they would 
not exhibit the foundation of virtue) than my argument has 
hitherto rendered it necessary for me to assume. I cannot, in- 
deed, allow that they are an infallible standard, because the 
moral infirmity of our nature affects the development of all 
our susceptibilities, though it has extinguished none, and crea- 
ted none. Yet, perhaps, the feelings of moral approbation, 
and disapprobation, are less affected by it than almost any 
other. The heart is sometimes sadly polluted, while the mo- 
ral faculties retain a considerable portion at least of their 
primitive rectitude. There is an important distinction between 
the approbation of the judgment and conscience, and the ap- 
probation of the heart. The number is not small of those who 
approve the good, while they follow that which is evil. The 
Gentiles, in the days of the Apostles, polluted as were their 
hearts, and detestable as was their conduct, were yet a law to 
themselves — "their consciences accused, or excused one 
another." It is the last item in the charge of the inspired wri- 
ter against those who held the truth in unrighteousness, that 
they not only did those things which they knew to be worthy of 
death, but had pleasure in them that did them. Even this, 
however, intends rather that they loved their company, than 



EXAMINATION OF THE SELFISH SYSTEM. 369 

that they approved their conduct. In further opposition to this 
theory of virtue, I observe, 

Secondly, that it cannot be reconciled with the principle on 
which the practice of moral duties is enforced upon us in the 
Sacred Scriptures. It has been justly remarked, " that what- 
ever theory be assumed, that man who has the most entire re- 
gard to the principle that constitutes moral obligation, possesses 
the greatest degree of virtue." If virtue derive its very charac- 
ter and existence from legislative enactment, he who is most 
generally and exclusively influenced by the authority of the 
law of his country, has the greatest share of virtue. On the 
same ground, if moral rectitude be the tendency of an action to 
promote our individual benefit, or the welfare of society at 
large, the palm of superior moral excellence must be given to 
him who pays the most exclusive regard to his own interest, 
or the general good, as his system ought to lead him. Let it 
be once conceded that virtue has its foundation in private uti- 
lity, and it will necessarily follow that the man who throws 
away all concern about the welfare of his fellow-creatures — 
who looks at nothing, and thinks of nothing, and pursues no- 
thing but his own private interests— sacrificing the interests of 
others, and the glory of God, if they appear to him to stand in 
his way, and forgetting them when they do not — is the indivi- 
dual who is the most entitled to the approbation of his fellow- 
men ! Who can believe it ? Or, let it be granted that virtue is 
founded in public, rather than private utility, and " mutatis mu- 
tandis" similar consequences will unavoidably follow. 

Now, it needs but a cursory inspection of the records of 
divine truth, to discover that this is not the ultimate ground, 
or reason, on which practical religion is enforced upon us by 
the Sacred Writers. Instead of commanding us, whether we 
eat or drink, or whatsoever we do, to aim at the promotion of 
public or private benefit, their language is, " do all to the glory 
of God." A regard to the approbation and to the honor of the 
Most High is uniformly represented as the highest motive — 
the most powerful consideration by which a rightly-disposed 
mind can be influenced. And though inferior motives do fre- 
quently operate, and, on account of their moral weight, are 
sometimes appealed to, yet the general statements of the Sa- 
cred Volume render it indisputable that a man rises in the scale 
of moral excellence in proportion as self is annihilated, and as 
he manifests an habitual regard to that motive by which the 
Deity himself is influenced in the whole of his works. 

If virtue had its foundation either in public or private utility, 
32 



370 THE NATURE OF RECTITUDE, 

there couid be nothing evil which tends to good. What them 
is the meaning of the prohibition, "not to do evil, that good 
may come ?" The language is perfectly unintelligible, except 
on the supposition that the rectitude and expedience of an 
action, are entirely distinct things ; and that, though what is 
right may be generally expedient, there are cases of exception. 
In this passage we are commanded to keep rectitude, not ex- 
pedience, in view — a command utterly incompatible with that 
account of the nature of virtue upon which we are now ani- 
madverting. The observation of Paley on this command, af- 
fords a striking proof of the baneful influence of the system of 
expediency ; " for the most part," says he, " a salutary cau- 
tion !" How different from the language of Paul! How differ- 
ent from his manly and spirited conclusion, "Let God be 
true, and every man a liar." 

The preceding discussion was commenced with the gene- 
ral statement, that Rectitude is some actual quality in ac- 
tions. It becomes now essential to give a more distinct and 
explicit explanation of that which is conceived to constitute 
its real nature, than it was necessary, or even proper, to do in 
encountering the various systems to which the attention of the 
reader has been directed. I observe, accordingly, 

Y. That virtue, as it regards man, is the conformity or har- 
mony of his affections and actions with the various relations 
in which he has been placed — of which conformity the perfect 
intellect of God, guided in its exercise by his infinitely holy 
nature, is the only infallible judge. 

We sustain various relations to God himself. He is our 
Creator — our Preserver — our Benefactor — our Governor. 
". He is the framer of our bodies, and the father of our spi- 
rits." He sustains us " by the word of his power ;" for, as 
we are necessarily dependent beings, our continued existence 
is a kind of prolonged creation. We owe all that we possess 
to him ; and our future blessings must flow from his kindness. 
Now there are obviously certain affections and actions which 
harmonize or correspond with these relations. To love and 
obey God manifestly befit our relation to him as that great 
Being from whom our existence as well as all our comforts 
flow. He who showers his blessings upon us ought to pos- 
sess our affections ; he who formed us has a right to our obe- 
dience. It is not stated merely, let it be observed, that it is 
impossible to contemplate our relation to God without per- 
ceiving that we are morally bound to love and obey him, 
(though that is a truth of great importance ;) for I do not con- 



THE NATURE OF RECTITUDE. 371 

sent to the propriety of the representation, that virtue depends 
either upon our perceptions or our feelings. There is a real 
harmony between the relations in which we stand to God, and 
the feelings and conduct to which reference has been made ; 
and, therefore, the human mind has been formed capable of 
perceiving and feeling it. 

We sustain various relations to each other. God has form- 
ed " of one blood, all the families of the earth." Mutual love 
and brotherly kindness, the fruit of love, are required by this 
relation — they harmonize or correspond with it. We are chil- 
dren ; we are loved, and guarded, and supported, and tended 
with unwearied assiduity by our parents, Filial affection and 
filial obedience are demanded by this relation ; no other state 
of mind, no other conduct, will harmonize with it. We are, 
perhaps, on the other hand, parents. Instrumentally at least 
we have imparted existence to our children ; they depend on 
us for protection, support, &c. and to render that support is 
required by the relation we bear to them. It is, however, 
needless to specify the various relations in which we stand to 
each other. With reference to all, I again say that they ne- 
cessarily involve obligations to certain states of mind, and 
certain modes of conduct, as harmonizing with the relations ; 
and that rectitude is the conformity of the character and con- 
duct of an individual with the relations in which he stands to 
the beings by whom he is surrounded. 

It is by no means certain to me that this harmony between 
the actions and the relations of a moral agent, is not what we 
are to understand by that " conformity to the fitness of things," 
in which some writers have made the essence of virtue to con- 
sist. Against this doctrine, it has been objected that it is in- 
definite, if not absurd ; because, as it is alledged, it represents 
an action as right and fit, without stating what it is fit for — an 
absurdity as great, says the objector, as it would be to say that 
44 the angles at the base of an isosceles triangle are equal 
without adding to one another, or to any other angle." Dr. 
Brown also, in arguing against this doctrine, says, " there 
must be a principle of moral regard, independent of reason, or 
reason may in vain see a thousand fitnesses, and a thousand 
truths ; and would be warmed with the same lively emotions 
of indignation against an inaccurate time-piece, or an error in 
arithmetic calculation, as against the wretch who robbed, by 
every fraud that could elude the law, those who had already 
little of which they could be deprived, that he might riot a little 
more luxuriously, while the helpless, whom he had plundered, 



372 THE TRUE NATURE OF RECTITUDE. 

were starving around him." Now, why may we not say, in 
answer to the former objector, that the conformity of an ac- 
tion with the relations of the agent, is the fitness for which 
Clarke contends ? And why may not we reply to Dr. Brown, 
that — allowing, as we do, the necessity of that susceptibility 
of moral emotion for which he contends — the emotion of ap- 
probation which arises on the contemplation of a virtuous ac- 
tion, is not the virtue of the action, nor the perception of its 
accordance with the relations of the agent, but the accord- 
ance itself ? " That a being," says Dewar, " endowed 
with certain powers, is bound to love and obey the Creator 
and Preserver of all, is truth, whether I perceive it or no ; and 
we cannot perceive it possible that it can ever be reversed." 

All the relations to which reference has been made, are, in 
one sense, arbitrary. Our existence as creatures is to be as- 
cribed to the mere good pleasure of God. The relations 
which bind society together, the conjugal, parental, filial rela- 
tion, depend entirely upon the sovereign will of Him who gave 
us our being; but the conduct to which these relations oblige 
us, is by no means arbitrary. Having determined to consti- 
tute the relations, He could not but enjoin upon us the con- 
duct which his word prescribes. He was under no obligation 
to create us at all ; but having given us existence, he could 
not fail to command us to love and obey him. There is a 
harmony between these relations and these duties, — a har- 
mony which is not only perceived by us — for to state that 
merely, would seem to make our perceptions the rule, if not 
the foundation of duty, — but which is perceived by the perfect 
intellect of God himself. And since the relations we sustain 
were constituted by God, since he is the judge of the affec- 
tions and conduct which harmonize with these relations — that 
which appears right to Him, being right on that account — 
rectitude may be regarded as conformity to the moral nature 
of God) the ultimate standard of virtue. 

The preceding account of the nature of rectitude is different 
from that of Dr. Price, and, it is hoped, more consistent and 
intelligible. In his elaborate work on Morals, this writer main- 
tains that there is an essential and eternal distinction between 
right and wrong — a statement which I, of course, have no de- 
sire to controvert, as it merely declares, in other terms, that 
an essential difference exists between what God is, and what 
he is not. But the writings of Dr. Price supply us with no 
standard of virtue, except that which is afforded by the moral 
faculties of man ; or, if they attempt to carry us beyond this 



THE TRUE NATURE OF RECTITUDE. 373 

?u1e, they are so abstract, or so dark, as to render it difficult to 
comprehend them. The Doctor commences his dissertation, 
by stating that " the terms right and wrong denote whatactions 
are " — " real characters of actions, &c. — and not mere sensa- 
tions derived from the particular frame and structure of our na- 
tures." He proceeds to show, that the understanding is the 
source of new ideas, in opposition to Locke, who affirms that 
all our ideas are derived from sensation and reflection. He 
explains the difference which he conceives to exist between 
what he calls "Sense," and "Understanding ;" meaning by the 
former of the terms, the faculty or power of sensation. Ac- 
cording to his statement of this difference, it is the same with 
that which Mr. Stewart attempts, as we have seen, to establish 
between the sensations which are received through the me- 
dium of the organs of sense, and the simple notions, of various 
kinds, which are formed by the mind, on the occasion of the 
existence of these sensations. " The understanding," says 
Dr. Price, " forms the ideas of necessity, infinity, contingency, 
possibility, power, causation, &c. ;" he adds also, " of right 
and wrong." Thus ideas of right and wrong are, as he con- 
siders, necessary perceptions of the understanding, and morali- 
ty is a branch of necessary truth. 

Now before I proceed to state more fully the objection 
against this system, at which I have already hinted, the reader 
is requested to notice, that, in the language which the Doctor 
employs, there is the appearance, at least, of identifying our 
perceptions of right and wrong with the right and wrong per- 
ceived. I am aware, indeed, that statements are to be found in 
his volume, which would seem to render it impossible to sup- 
pose that such a mistake can have been committed. And, 
perhaps, when his mind was particularly directed to the point, 
the distinction between our ideas of right, and rectitude itself, 
did not escape his notice. I cannot but think, however, that 
the two things were habitually identified. How otherwise could 
he think of saying, that right and wrong may denote what we 
understand and know concerning certain objects — that they 
are expressive of simple and undefinable ideas ?* How other- 
wise could it have happened, that he has failed to tell us what 
rectitude in action is ? Declaring, as he does, that it is a real 
character of actions — that it is perceived by the understanding 
— and that every act of perception supposes something to be 
perceived, we naturally expect to find him proceeding to show, 

* Vide p. 59, 60. 

32* 



374 THE TRUE NATURE OF RECTITUDE. 

not merely how our notions of rectitude arise, but what is the 
nature of rectitude itself. Certain it is, however, that he does 
nothing of the kind. He traces our notions of virtue to what 
he considers their source ; he tells us that they are necessary 
perceptions of the understanding ; but he says nothing of that 
which is perceived, i. e. of rectitude itself. His argument seems 
to be, " We perceive a distinction between right and wrong, 
and, therefore, morality is eternal and immutable. 

Now I shall not dwell upon the objection against this doc- 
trine, which is justly retorted by Dr. Brown, viz. that it as truly 
represents virtue to be dependent upon the arbitrary constitu- 
tion of the mind, as any of the schemes which it rejects. For 
what in reality is the argument of Dr. Price, but the following ? 
We perceive a difference between virtue and vice, — and, there- 
fore, there is a difference — a difference eternal and immutable. 
And if such be the amount of the argument, why may we not 
say, with Dr. Brown, " We feel a difference between virtue 
and vice, and, therefore, there is a difference V Reason is but 
a principle of our mental frame, like the principle which is the 
source of our moral emotions. Why, therefore, should the for- 
mer be regarded as an infallible guide, and the latter not ?" 

Not to dwell upon this, however, it is manifest that, since 
the Doctor does not state in what rectitude consists, his system 
presents us with no standard of virtue, except that which is 
supplied by those perceptions of right and wrong, of which we 
have so frequently spoken. These perceptions, as it appears 
to me, take the same place, and perform the same office, with 
the moral emotions of Dr. Brown. On this account, I prefer 
the statements of the nature of rectitude which have been 
given in the preceding pages. Those statements declare that 
moral distinctions are eternal and immutable — that virtue is an 
actual quality or character of actions — that the conformity of 
an action with the relations sustained by the agent, or its agree- 
ment with the Divine perceptions of rectitude, guided in its 
exercise by his infinitely holy nature, is the virtue of the action. 
Thus it lays an intelligible and infallible foundation of virtue 
in the moral nature of God — and presents us, also, with a per- 
fect standard of virtue, in the revelation which he has given us 
of that nature. 

It was observed a short time ago, that when Dr. Price's 
statements are apparently adapted to carry us to something 
more ultimate as the standard of virtue than our own percep- 
tions, they become so abstract, or so dark, as to be difficult of 
comprehension. The following is a short account of them : 



THE TRUE NATURE OF RECTITUDE. 375 

tl Our ideas of right and wrong are necessary perceptions of 
the understanding." — " The terms denote what actions are, 
not by will or power, but by nature and necessity ;" — " they 
express real characters of actions which belong to them immu- 
tably and necessarily." In reply to an objection that this state- 
ment appears to set up something distinct from God, which is 
independent of him, and equally eternal and necessary, he says, 
44 It is easy to see that this difficulty affects morality no more 
than it does all truth. If, for this reason, we must give up the 
unalterable natures of right and wrong, and make them depend- 
ent on the divine will, we must, for the same reason, give up 
all necessary truth, and assert the possibility of contradic- 
tions."* 

In further encountering the objection, he observes — 

44 First, That something there certainly is which we must 
allow not to be dependent on the will of God ; as, for instance, 
his existence, eternity, &c. 

11 Secondly, Mind supposes truth, — an eternal necessary 
mind supposes eternal necessary truth, — if there were no eter- 
nal necessary independent truths, there could be no infinite in- 
dependent necessary mind, or intelligence, because there would 
be nothing to be certainly and eternally known. | In like man- 
ner it may be said, that if there were no moral distinctions, 
there could be no moral attributes in the Deity, [f there 
were nothing eternally and unalterably right and wrong, there 
could be nothing meant by his eternal unalterable rectitude or 
holiness."! 

This last statement is exceedingly plausible, and may, in- 
deed, be so explained, as to convey a just and an important 
meaning. Yet it is very possible to misunderstand it, and to be 
led by it into very great misconceptions and inconsistencies. 
It may originate the notion of some standard of virtue inde- 
pendent of God, and which is the measure of the divine recti- 
tude — a notion which is truly absurd. For if we must apply 
some moral measure to his character, before we can pronounce 
that character morally excellent — then, for the same reason, 
we must apply a measure to this measure, before we can have 
confidence in its moral accuracy ; and, again, another to this 

* P. 137. 

t Does not the Doctor identify mind, or intelligence, here with know- 
ledge ? There cannot certainly be knowledge where there is nothing to 
be known ; but may there not be mind? Actual perception cannot exist 
where there is nothing to be perceived ; but may not the power of per- 
ception ? 

% P. 137-139. 



376 THE TRUE NATURE OF RECTITUDE. 

more remote one, and so on ad infinitum. There must be some 
ultimate standard of virtue — some measure which cannot be 
measured ; and what can that be but the moral nature of God ? 
Aware of the importance of guarding against this mistake, Dr. 
Price adds to the answers already stated, — " but it may still 
be urged, that these observations remove not the difficulty, but 
rather strengthen it. We are still left to conceive of certain 
objects distinct from Deity, which are necessary and independ- 
ent ; and on which, too, his existence and attributes are found- 
ed ; and without which we cannot so much as form any idea of 
them. I answer," he adds, " we ought to distinguish between 
the will of God and his nature. It by no means follows, because 
they are independent of his will that they are also independent 
of his nature. To conceive thus of them would indeed involve 
us in the greatest inconsistencies. Wherever, or in whatever 
objects necessity and infinity occur to our thoughts, the divine 
eternal nature is to be acknowledged. We shall," he adds, " I 
believe be more willing to own this, when we have attentively 
considered what abstract truth and possibility are. Our 
thoughts are here lost in an unfathomable abyss, where we find 
room for an everlasting progress, and where the very notion of 
arriving at a point beyond which there is nothing farther, im- 
plies a contradiction. There is a proper infinity of ideal objects 
and verities possible to be known ; and of systems, worlds, 
and scenes of being, perception, order, and art, wholly incon- 
ceivable to finite minds, possible to exist. This infinity of truth 
and possibility we cannot in thought destroy. Do what we will, 
it always returns upon us. Every thought and every idea of 
every mind, every kind of agency and power, and every degree 
of intellectual improvement and pre-eminence amongst all rea- 
sonable beings, imply its necessary and unchangeable exist- 
ence. Can this be any thing besides the divine, uncreated, in- 
finite reason and power, from whence all other reason and 
power are derived, offering themselves to our minds, and forc- 
ing us to see and acknowledge them ? — What is the true con- 
clusion from such considerations, but that there is an incom- 
prehensible first wisdom, knowledge, and power necessarily 
existing, which contain in themselves all things, from which all 
things sprung, and upon which all things depend ? There is 
nothing so intimate with us, and one with our natures, as God. 
He is included, as appears, in all our conceptions, and neces- 
sary to all the operations of our minds : nor could he be ne- 
cessarily existent, were not this true of him. For it is implied 
in the idea of necessary existence, that it is fundamental to all 



THE TRUE NATURE OF RECTITUDE. 377 

other existence, and pre-supposed in every notion we can frame 
of every thing. In short, it seems very plain, that truth having 
always a reference to the mind, infinite eternal truth implies an 
infinite eternal mind : and that, not being itself a substance, 
nor yet nothing, it must be a mode of a substance, or the es- 
sential wisdom and intelligence of the one necessary Being."* 

All this may be both true and important, but I am constrain- 
ed to think that it conveys no distinct idea. The assertions, 
that " there is an infinity of truth and possibility which we can- 
not destroy" — that " this infinity is the divine uncreated infinite 
reason and power" — that " the incomprehensible first wisdom, 
knowledge, and power, contain in themselves all things " — that 
** eternal truth, not being a substance, nor yet nothing, must be 
the mode of a substance, or the essential wisdom and intelli- 
gence of the one necessary being," appear to me very much 
like the statements of Dr. Clarke with reference to space and 
duration, which have puzzled many more than they have en- 
lightened and convinced. As far as I can understand the pre- 
ceding declarations, they seem to make our perceptions the 
revealers to us of the character of God, if not the rule and mea- 
sure of that character. Certain views of rectitude are necessa- 
rily formed by the understanding — that rectitude, which the 
mind thus perceives, is eternal and immutable ; i. e. it consti- 
tutes the moral nature of God — " for wherever necessity and 
infinity occur to our thoughts, the divine eternal nature is to be 
acknowledged." Now, what is this but saying that the human 
mind, by its unaided efforts, may attain to the knowledge of 
God 1 Who can avoid perceiving that the whole is greater than 
its parts, or that two and two make four ? If we have an intui- 
tion of right and wrong, and if the rectitude we thus perceive 
be the nature of God, who can be ignorant of Him ? It may be 
proper to ascertain, before we embrace this sentiment, how far 
it can be reconciled with an authority to which all should bow, 
and by which we are assured " that the world by wisdom knew 
not God " — and that " it is impossible to find him out to per- 
fection." 

It is, of course, admitted that we have perceptions of right 
and wrong ; and it is further conceded, that had the moral 
state of man remained unaltered since he came from the hands 
of his Maker, these perceptions might have constituted a per- 
fect criterion of virtue. But as this is not the case — as the 
views we take of objects of a moral nature are greatly affected 

* Price, p. 140-142, 



378 THE STANDARD OF RECTITUDE. 

by the state of the heart, which is declared to be "deceitful 
above all things and desperately wicked," — it is denied that 
our perceptions of right and wrong can be safely relied upon 
as constituting a correct and perfect measure, or revealer to 
us of the divine character. We must have a more infallible 
standard of rectitude than either our perceptions or our feel- 
ings. That standard we have placed in the divine intellect, 
guided in its exercise by his perfectly holy nature. Doubtless 
there is embodied in the character of God all that we can con- 
ceive of moral excellence ; yet I would rather say that his cha- 
racter is excellent, because it is his character, than because it 
appears excellent to us. This is the ultimate measure which 
cannot itself, for that very reason, be measured. The virtue of 
man is conformity to the relations be sustains ; of this confor- 
mity the perfect intellect of God is the only infallible judge ; — 
and as His intellect is guided in its exercise by his perfectly 
holy nature, those affections and actions which appear right to 
God, are right on that very account. 

WHAT IS THE STANDARD OF RECTITUDE ? 

It was formerly stated that the two questions, " What is the 
Foundation of Virtue ?" — and "What is the Standard of Vir- 
tue?" are not so radically distinct as is sometimes imagined. 
And the conclusion, at which we have at length arrived, shows 
the correctness of this statement ; since it teaches us that the 
holy nature of God, guiding the perceptions of his perfect in- 
tellect, is both the foundation and the standard of virtue. 

The question then, upon the consideration of which we are 
about to enter, manifestly resolves itself into an inquiry with 
reference to the Revelation, or Revelations, which God has 
given to us of himself. We know nothing of God but what he 
has revealed to us ; that Revelation, then, must be the stan- 
dard of Rectitude, by exhibiting to us his perfect and glorious 
nature. The inquiry which presents itself, then, is, " Where 
is this revelation to be found ?" To this question I answer, 

First, In the material creation. " The heavens declare the 
glory of God." " The invisible things of Him from the crea- 
tion of the world, are clearly seen, being understood by the 
things (hat are made, even his eternal power and Godhead." 
The visible and tangible Universe is, then, a revelation of God 
— an exhibition of the standard of rectitude ; though, it may 
be, not so bright and luminous an exhibition as that to which 
we shall shortly advert. It is, on various accounts, important 



THE STANDARD OF RECTITUDE. 379 

to recollect this. Wc sometimes hear it asserted, that the works 
of nature do not teach us any thing of God — and that reason 
has nothing to do in matters of religion. It may be possible, 
perhaps, to attach a meaning to the latter assertion, against 
which no great exception can be taken ; yet it is often igno- 
rantly made, and is adapted to lead into very great and de- 
plorable mistakes. The wordsj understood in their obvious 
sense, are so far from being true, that it is by the aid of 
reason we arrive at the knowledge of the fundamental truth of 
all religion, viz. the Divine existence. We see marks of con- 
trivance in the universe ; we immediately conclude that there 
must have been a contriver. But this is a deduction of reason. 
Discard the use of reason, and we shall be constrained to sur- 
render our confidence in the being of a God. Should it be said, 
in reply, that the existence of God is affirmed in his word ; I 
would ask, how we know that this word merits our confidence 
— that it is the word of God — that the Scriptures were, indeed, 
given by inspiration of God ? Is it not by the aid of reason 1 
Should it be further said, that the character of Jehovah, as 
drawn by the inspired penmen, approves itself to us, as being 
a true description of Him in whom we live and move ; and 
thus establishes the Divinity of the Bible ; I admit the truth 
of the remark, while I ask, if it be not to our reason that this 
character approves itself. Let us, then, be careful not to mis- 
understand the statement, that reason has nothing to do in 
matters of religion. If we are determined to extinguish the 
light of nature — or rather to affirm that there is no such thine 
— to place no confidence in the decisions of reason, we must 
surrender our faith in divine revelation, admit that we are left 
without any moral guide whatever, and abandon ourselves to 
an universal scepticism. " 

There is a broad line of distinction between the denial that 
any of the decisions of reason may be relied upon with con- 
fidence, and that it may be trusted as a safe and infallible 
guide in reference to our conduct, in all the relations we sus- 
tain to God and to each other. The latter denial must be 
made, unless we are prepared to maintain that reason has suf- 
fered no eclipse, through the lapse of the species. Granting 
the scripture doctrine of the fall, it follows, 

Secondly, That we must seek for a revelation of God in 
the Scriptures of truth. There we have that bright and lumi- 
nous exhibition of the Divine character, to which reference was 
made a short time ago, and to which we shall do well to take 
heed, as " unto a lamp shining in a dark place." It is neces- 



380 THE STANDARD OF RECTITUDE. 

sarily implied in the fact, that the Bible came from God, that 
it presents us with a more full and perfect manifestation of 
his character than can be derived from any oiher source — or 
why was it given ? Jehovah does nothing in vain. Did he 
not intend to unveil to us more of his glorious character than 
is laid open to our view in the material universe, we cannot 
conceive that what is emphatically called Divine Revelation 
would have been given to the world. And, if the Bible does 
present us with a more full development of the Divine char- 
acter than the external and visible universe, it must be a more 
perfect character of rectitude. It must, indeed, be absolutely 
perfect as far as it professes to be our guide, because it came 
from God. Whether there be any minute points of Christian 
duty to which the directions of the Sacred Scriptures do not 
reach, it is not necessary, for our present purpose, to con- 
sider. The oracle might be allowed to be in some cases si- 
lent, but where it speaks, it must be infallible in its directions. 
It must demand and deserve the most implicit obedience. And 
if this be all that is meant by the assertion formerly referred 
to, that reason has nothing to do in matters of religion, I cor- 
dially admit its truth and importance. Having examined the 
claims of the Bible to be a revelation from God ; having sub- 
jected the evidence by which this important fact is sought to be 
established, to the test of those rules by which the value and 
credibility of evidence is, in all cases, tried, and found it to be 
sufficient and convincing ; I agree with Dr. Chalmers in think- 
ing, that the question then is, " not, What thinkest thou? but 
How rcadest thou ?" I am disposed to concede that the appa- 
rent reasonableness or unreasonableness of any doctrine which 
is manifestly revealed, does not supply a legitimate ground either 
of reception or rejection. I would g'rant to the Roman Catholic 
that we are not justified in rejecting the doctrine of transubstan- 
tiation itself, on the ground of its apparent absurdity. The ex- 
clusive inquiry concerning this, and every other sentiment, ought 
to be the following — Is it the doctrine of Scripture? If that 
be the case, it must be true. I would not, however, be un- 
derstood as affirming that reason is to be totally excluded even 
here, since it is only by the upright use of this faculty that we 
can ascertain the meaning of Scripture. All that is intended 
is, that the divine authority of the Bible being established, the 
sole office of reason is to ascertain the meaning of its commu- 
nications ; and not to sit in judgment upon the reasonableness 
of those doctrines which are clearly shown to constitute inte- 
gral parts of that communication. I am aware of the reply 



THE STANDARD OF RECTITUDE. 381 

which will be attempted here ; viz. that, as we admitted the 
divine authority of the Bible, because the evidence on which 
it rested its claims to be a communication from God appeared 
to our reason to be conclusive, we are warranted in rejecting 
any doctrine which appears to us irrational. I reply, that I 
would by no means affirm that that circumstance does not 
call upon us to examine afresh whether the meaning of the 
record may not have been mistaken, nor even whether the 
evidence on which we have received the Bible, as a revelation 
from God, be really impregnable. But when we have done 
this — when, after a careful and devout examination of Scrip- 
ture, we see conclusive evidence that the doctrine in question 
forms an integral part of what is unquestionably a revelation 
from God, we have nothing to do but to believe it. Any ap- 
parent mystery, or unreasonableness, or want of agreement 
with the analogy of faith, does not form a legitimate ground 
of rejection. We have, indeed, in this stage of the business, 
nothing to do with any such questions. " We must not 
abridge the sovereignty of the principle — what readest thou 1 
by appealing to others, by talking of the reasonableness of the 
doctrine, or the standard of orthodoxy, (that is, as additional 
grounds for receiving it,) and thus in fact bring down the Bi- 
ble from the high place to which it is entitled, as the only tri- 
bunal to which the appeal should be made, or from which the 
decision should be looked for." 

The preceding statements, representing the Bible as the 
standard, are borne out by every thing contained in the Sacred 
Volume itself. The Bible is an authoritative communication 
of truth and duty. It prefaces its discoveries, with " Thus 
saith the Lord." Must not then its doctrines be received — 
its precepts obeyed 1 In other words, are we not morally 
obliged to take the Sacred Volume as the standard of recti- 
tude, both as it regards sentiment and practice ? That the 
question of expediency may be taken into the account, when 
endeavoring to ascertain, in difficult and perplexing cases, the 
path of duty, has been allowed. But I believe fewer cases 
than is sometimes imagined will arise, which are not provided 
for in the Sacred Volume, either by specific or general direc- 
tions. The more familiar we are with its contents, and the 
more deeply we are imbued with its spirit, the less shall we 
find ourselves at a loss in reference to the path of duty. 
Doubt and hesitation are, I suspect, generally to be ascribed 
to ignorance or inattention. 

I cannot bring myself to oppose, formally and at length, the 
33 






382 THE STANDARD OP RECTITUDE. 



notion that expediency is the standard of rectitude. That a 
Christian moralist — a man who professes to believe that the 
Bible is a revelation from God, or, in other words, that He 
has condescended to teach us, in his word, what is truth and 
duty — should depart from this rule, and adopt that of expe- 
diency, or any other in preference to it, is to me, I acknow- 
ledge, passing strange. There is, I apprehend, far less ab- 
surdity in erecting the Scriptures into a standard of rectitude, 
while we maintain that expediency, either general or particu- 
lar, is its foundation : or, in other words, in maintaining that 
an action is right, because it tends to individual or public be- 
nefit : while we contend that the best way to ascertain the 
tendency of actions is to inquire what are commanded, and 
what are condemned, in the Sacred Yolume. 

The preceding statements render it unnecessary to enter 
into the question, By what principle of our nature is it that we 
attain to the knowledge of right and wrong ? The sentiments 
we entertain with regard to the nature of virtue, must guide 
our opinions on this point. If virtue be the conformity of an 
action with the relations of the agent, the discovery of that 
relation is manifestly the office of reason. If the standard 
of virtue be the word of God, by what principle of our nature 
but reason, are we to arrive at the knowledge of its meaning ? 

If virtue, on the other hand, be the relation of an action to 
a certain emotion, it is not by the intellectual part of our na- 
ture at all that we gain an acquaintance with it. The rise 
of the emotion is the only criterion of virtue ; our suscepti- 
bility of moral emotion is that part of our nature by which we 
attain to the knowledge of right and wrong. 



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